


In Effigy

by dorcasdeadowes



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Catholic Guilt, Character Death, Homophobia, Human AU, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Gore, Religious Conflict, Russian Doll AU, Self-Harm, Substance Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-03-27 14:03:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 43,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19014382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorcasdeadowes/pseuds/dorcasdeadowes
Summary: “Hey, didn’t you get the news?” said Magnus. “We’re about to die.”“It’s okay,” the stranger replied. His voice was deep. Calm. Soothing. If Magnus had been afraid to die, that voice might have relieved a little fear. With a sad smile, he added, “I die all the time.”Magnus saw no hint of a lie in the statement.Unable to contain his smile, he replied, "Me too."





	1. Annabelle

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU based on the Netflix series Russian Doll. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Magnus had not expected to be thirty-six. It had been twenty-six years since his mother had died; twenty-six years since his life had begun to inch towards being thirty-six years long. A whole year ago had been thirty-five. Yet it still felt like the day had come from nowhere. He had expected to feel older. His face in the mirror looked like that of a grown man, but his heart still felt ten years old. He had hoped to feel older. Thirty-six had seemed very old at one point.

His heart beat heavy beneath the gaudy crucifix that dangled from his neck. He leant forwards over the bathroom sink, just enough so that the weight of the pendant fell away for a moment.

“Okay,” he whispered to his own reflection.

He was impressed with how he looked. Not how good he looked, but how okay he looked. If he wasn’t a constant, unwilling spectator to his own misery he’d almost mistake his face for one that belonged to a much happier man.

His breath betrayed him, however. His shallow panic fogged up the mirror. He’d need a moment to catch it. Any excuse to stay safe behind the locked door of Clary’s bathroom, really.

A sudden pounding from the other side told him he’d had his moment.

“Okay,” he whispered once more, reaching for the towel to dry his hands even though they were not wet (he’d only disappeared to the bathroom for the sake of disappearing) before finally opening the door.

It was then that he actually had a good look at the door. In all its glory.

“Jesus,” he breathed.

Clary was into abstract pieces, he knew, but this was a whole other world of otherworldly. The majority of the door appeared to collapse into a crystal vortex while the handle was a pistol.

He let out a little laugh and pulled the trigger.

“Finally,” said the woman at the front of the line, pushing past Magnus before he could take a step out of the room.

With a roll of his eyes, he couldn’t help but mutter, “I don’t even know who you are.”

He wasn’t the type to get bratty on his birthday. Not usually.

He wandered through the crowd of people, greeting those he knew, poaching a cigarette from one he liked, and counting many more that he didn’t.

Then he saw Clary, dancing around the kitchen with a full-face of makeup and no shoes on. She was taking a drag of something when she spotted him and waved wildly as way of greeting before exhaling and saying, “Sweet Birthday, Baby!”

“Biscuit,” he replied, “What’s with that door?”

“What door?”

“The one that looks like a giant vagina.”

Clary let out a tinkling laugh and offered Magnus her joint.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

Magnus did not immediately take a drag. Instead, he twirled the thing between his thumb and forefinger.

“It’s terrifying,” he said.

“What’s terrifying?” came a voice from behind him.

He turned to see Clary’s new roommate Izzy.

“Our door.”

“Oh, do you like it?” she asked.

Magnus studied her for a moment. He hadn’t known her for very long, but he hadn’t taken her for the sort of person to help choose such a monstrosity.

“Do you like it?” he asked her in return, finally taking a drag.

“She made it,” said Clary.

“No, I built it,” corrected Izzy. “Clary designed it.”

“Well if you were going for terrifying, congratulations to you both.”

He offered the joint to Izzy but before she could accept or deny a phone flashed on the counter.

“Oh, crap,” she breathed, leaning over and tapping away. “I've gotta go. I think my brother's finally lost it.”

“Tell him to come here!” cried Clary. “I’m making a chicken.”

“I asked him to come last week. He said it wasn’t really his ‘scene.’”

“He doesn’t like chicken? Tell him the cake is vegan.”

“He doesn’t like parties."

Once Izzy had gone, Magnus asked, "Why is my cake vegan?” said Magnus.

“For the people who don’t want chicken.”

Magnus went to laugh, but something in his self-control went faulty and he felt tears prickle beneath his eyes.

“Magnus, what’s wrong?” asked Clary. 

Choking on a sob, Magnus said, “Chairman Meow's gone.”

“Oh, no! But he does that, right? He disappears for a few days at a time?”

“It’s been three days.”

“Oh, that’s not good.”

Magnus looked at her with open-mouthed disbelief.

“I mean, I’m sure he’ll come back soon. You know, you don’t have to eat the vegan cake. I can roast another chicken.”

He didn't want a second chicken. He wanted to find his baby. Magnus looked around at the bustling crowd and considered following Izzy into the dark streets making kissing noises and calling out his cat’s name only to go home alone.

“I'm sure the cake'll be delicious, Biscuit.”

* * *

 

If Magnus had wanted to feel old, being surrounded by all of Clary and Izzy’s twenty-something friends was certainly doing its part. He found himself staring mindlessly into Clary’s aquarium, watching the fish swim in pointless circles around plastic coral. A man was talking to him, had been talking to him. Magnus had tuned out some twenty minutes ago. When he tuned back in, it did not seem as though the man had noticed his loss of an audience.

Magnus looked at the man properly as he rambled on about a painting. He did not know what painting. He didn’t much care.

“How old are you?” asked Magnus.

He was probably the only person at that party who was older than Magnus.

“Excuse me?” he replied.

“How old are you?”

“Where did that come from?”

“I just want to know how much older than me you are.”

The man looked flustered, then offended, then skeptical in quick succession.

“I wasn’t hitting on you,” he said defensively.

“I know,” said Magnus. “I just wanted to know how old you are.”

“I’m forty-two if you must know.”

The other man smiled as though he was waiting for a compliment on his youthful looks. Magnus wanted to ask him what he was doing there, what he was doing with his life. But he heard a familiar voice from far across the room.

“Thanks,” was all Magnus said before turning and bracing himself for the gates of hell to open.

Clary was brandishing a turkey baster like a sword as she defended the threshold of her apartment.

“You’re not welcome here,” she said.

“Magnus invited me!” replied Camille, gesturing to him.

Clary turned to look at Magnus with great disappointment. Magnus wanted to argue that this was not true, but a repressed memory of a drunken night a week or so beforehand fluttered to the forefront of his mind.

“Shit,” he breathed.

He was tempted, very tempted, to be the bigger person and confront her. He could apologise to Clary for inviting evil incarnate into her home. He could apologise to Camille for the invitation and ask her to kindly leave without making a scene.

He did neither of those things.

Instead, he bolted for the window and climbed down the fire escape.

Chairman Meow liked the park. There were lots of bushes to skulk and hide under. Lots of birds to fail to catch.

He jogged to make up for the fact that he’d been too much of a coward to get his coat before leaving. As he ran, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. After five times, he knew he should check it.

(Clary): <wtf did you invite Camille>

(Clary): <where are you>

(Clary): <????>

(Clary): <she wont leave>

(Clary): <can I kick her out???>

“I’m sorry,” he typed back quickly as he continued to jog “I invited her last week when I was off my face. I completely forgot. Went down your fire escape as soon as I saw her.”

(Clary): <it’s fine>

(Clary): <I have a fire escape?>

But it wasn’t fine. He was thirty-six and he had sent a drunk text to his ex-girlfriend inviting her to his birthday party.

If he could just find his fucking cat. That might make up for it.

Just before the crossing which lead into the park sat a corner shop. He considered buying a packet of treats and bribing his cat into the open. He did not have any pride, after all, when it came to begging for love from animals. Only people. Sometimes.

With a sigh, he went to push open the shop door. That was when he saw Izzy. She was helping a tall, dark-haired man to his feet. He could only assume that was the brother.

The only sound from within that reached Magnus' ears was the yelling of the shopkeeper.

It seemed as though the brother had knocked over almost a whole shelf of tins, making a pollock on the floor. He did not have time for any of that. Nor did he had time for Izzy questioning him on why he’d left his own party so early.

Before she could see him, he darted out of the fluorescent light and into the darkness of the street. Then, after a sudden and unbearable slam of a car into his side, he looked up to see his own reflection.

He reached down to touch his side, waiting for the wince. It didn’t come. It was fine. It didn’t even feel bruised.

Magnus lent forwards over Clary’s bathroom sink and tried to remember what exactly he had just been doing.

Turning thirty-six. That was it.

It was funny, he thought, he’d expected to have been dead before this.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Let’s do this.”

“Sweet Birthday Baby!” greet Clary.

Magnus shook off a shiver of déjà vu and took the joint she offered.

“You enjoying your party?” she asked as he inhaled.

“It’s the best fucking party I’ve ever been to.”

“Okay, well there’s no need to be rude.”

He laughed and passed her back the joint. In that split second he felt his mask slip, like he might start crying. He couldn’t have that.

When Clary’s new roommate came over to join them, Magnus excused himself. He certainly didn't want to cry in front of her. Maybe if he found himself a dark corner, he’d be able to pass the night in relative peace.

* * *

 

Two fish swam a ceaseless dance around the unnecessarily big tank that sat at the back of the room, between the book shelves. Two fish? That couldn’t be right. Magnus crouched down a little so that his face was level with the water and counted again. Two.

A voice from a few feet away was talking about a painting. It was easy to tune out the words, but the arrogance that the man exuded was grating.

“What’s a forty-two year old doing at a party like this?” asked Magnus, finally turning his attention on the stranger.

“I’m sorry… did I tell you my age? Or are you just really good at guessing?”

Magnus rubbed lines into his forehead and stood up straight.

“I think I have amnesia."

“Amnesia is when you forget something,” said the stranger. “You just remembered something.”

“What’s your name?”

“You know my age but you don’t know my name?”

“Like I said I have amnesia.”

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t think so. I think I’m having an existential crisis.”

“Is that so?”

“I’ve never been great at coping with birthdays.”

“Oh, it’s your birthday?”

“This is my party!” he announced, gesturing dramatically to the room at large.

“You’re Magnus?”

“I am.”

“Clary’s my teaching assistant. Professor Rey,” he said, holding out his hand. "She speaks very highly of you."

“I’m not calling you Professor.”

“Lorenzo.”

“I can call you that,” said Magnus, accepting the handshake. “Tell me, Lorenzo, are you married?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I think I always thought I’d be married by now. But I also think I always thought I’d be dead by now.”

“Is there a difference?”

Magnus knew it was a light-hearted stab in the deep darkness of a stranger’s sense of humour, but he felt the urge to suddenly end the conversation.

“I need another drink,” he said, by way of excusing himself, and followed the smell of chicken.

“Biscuit, that smells entirely edible,” he said.

“That’s because I didn’t let Izzy anywhere near it,” she replied, sticking her tongue out at the other girl.

“Didn’t you have more fish?” interjected Magnus.

“No. I’ve only ever had two. Ketchup and Mustard.”

Magnus shrugged it off and turned to Izzy, asking, “Is your brother okay?”

Izzy frowned.

“Yeah,” she said, “He’s fine. Why?”

“Magnus!” cried Clary, looking over his shoulder and towards the front door of the apartment. “Don’t look now, but Camille just walked in.”

“Fuck. I forgot I invited her.”

“You invited your ex?” asked Izzy.

“Don’t judge me okay, you’re sleeping with a guy in an amateur indie band,” he said.

At that, he inhaled as much as possible in a five second period before passing it back and venturing over to Camille. As he walked he heard the dregs of Clary and Izzy’s conversation.

“You told him about Simon?”

“He still hasn’t mentioned the door. Do you think it’s vaginal enough?”

Camille was craning her neck to search through the crowd.

“Hi,” he said, drawing her attention.

“Hi,” she replied.

The corners of her mouth loosened into a smile as the invisible binds around Magnus’ free will tightened.

“Look,” she said. “I know you were drunk when you called and asked me to come. But I was really hoping we could talk.”

“Okay.”

He allowed her to lead him through the crowd to a vacant patch of wall they could lean up against.

“I was hoping to hear from you a bit earlier,” she began.

“Well, Clary only decided to throw the party last week.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

God he wished he had a drink in his hand. He spotted a young man pouring bourbon into a tall glass and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Excuse me,” said Magnus with a sweet smile. “It’s my birthday. Can I have that?”

The young man did not understand the request at first and Magnus took the opportunity to simply lift the glass from his grasp and take a big gulp.

“Thank you so much,” said Magnus, “Top it up just a little for me?”

Once his glass was full again, he turned back to Camille.

“I see you’re doing well,” she said sourly. “I thought you were going to cut back on drinking.”

“Oh, I drink a lot less when I’m not around you.”

She flinched. He’d hurt her. Good. Or not. Guilt sat heavy in his gut. He blamed his mother for that. It wasn’t his fault Camille was far too insufferable for sobriety.

“I thought we were going to have a mature conversation. What's your problem?” she asked.

“The Chairman’s gone,” he replied, not entirely untruthfully.

“Well, he does that sometimes.”

“No it’s been three days. He’s never been gone that long before.”

The tears that had threatened to surface earlier spilt over. Magnus let out a deep groan and gave up all presence of self-respect. Camille reached out to pull him into a hug that he did not fight against.

“Do you want to go find him?” she whispered in his ear.

“Really?” he asked, hating how childlike his voice was. “I thought you hated cats.”

“Yeah, but you love that little furry shit.”

He laughed at that and it felt real.

He let her hold him until they were out in the cold. The wind clicked its fingers before him and brought him stumbling a little closer towards his senses.

They walked without touching towards the park near Magnus’ place. It was weird. It felt like something between a first date and a funeral procession. There was possibility as much as there was pain. He tried to remember the person that lay beneath her pretty face and sharp wit. But the six months of separation (not to mention the bourbon) had numbed the sting of their long, twisted relationship. Perhaps he should have stayed sober.

As they reached the crossing that lead to the park, Magnus spotted something quick, grey, and white.

Magnus gasped and made to take off running. Before his foot even hit the tarmac, though, he felt Camille pull him sharply back to the pavement.

“What are you doing?” cried Magnus, freeing himself from her grip.

A taxi had just screeched past, scaring off any nearby life no doubt.

“What am _I_ doing?” she said. “What are you doing? You almost just got hit by that car!”

“That was the Chairman!”

He turned to cross the road once more, this time looking out for any cars.

“Oh, no!” he cried sarcastically. “I hope I don’t die trying to cross a road!”

Camille let out a disbelieving laugh before following him. He ignored her and got down to lean on his elbows so he could check beneath the bush.

“You’re crazy,” she said.

She was only saying it to get a rise out of him. But it worked. It always did.

“Don’t call me crazy,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t be crazy then,” she snapped back.

He peered as far beneath the shrubbery as his form would allow before accepting that the Chairman was long gone if he had ever been there. If it hadn’t been a figment of his craziness.

Once he was standing he looked Camille long and hard in the eyes. She was pleased with herself, he could tell that much. Well, if it was a fight she was after, he was more than happy to oblige.

“I thought you wanted to help me find my cat,” he said.

“Oh, come on! Are you telling me that wasn’t just an excuse to get me to come home with you?”

“Since when have I needed an excuse to get you to follow me home?”

“So you didn't plan all of this? Getting drunk and inviting me to your party? Like a teenager? That wasn't an excuse? That was something you did accidentally?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good at making terrible mistakes.”

“If I’m such a fucking terrible mistake then why do you keep on coming back to me?”

“Because I’m an addict. The drink and the drugs numb the pain and you provide the pain. It’s a great way of tricking myself into feeling alive.”

“No, it’s because you know I am the best you are ever going to get. I am the only person who is ever going to see you for who you really are and not go running the other way.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck _you_! I’m not your way out of reality. I am your reality. So just stop fighting it, okay?” she cried.

Magnus could not meet her eye, but he saw her boots clattering closer as much as he felt her hand cup his face.

“Okay?”

He felt himself nod. He felt himself guide her back to his bed. He felt himself hold her close. He felt her breathing even beside him as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 

Nothing in the world could settle his stomach enough to allow him to sleep there beside her, though. He rolled out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen in the dark. The light of the fridge guided him towards a cold beer.

He drank it slowly, like it might make the experience an enjoyable one, like it might stretch time so far she’d be gone by the time he was finished.

She wasn’t gone. She’d not even moved. She just lay there like a fucking princess, dribbling on his pillows.

He dressed himself, pulled on his shoes and coat, and went back out to find the only thing he actually wanted to sleep in next to.

“Chairman,” he called out, “Baby?”

The park was deserted except for a few homeless souls shivering. Magnus cursed himself for not having any money on him and in a fit of guilt at the fact, took his own coat off and threw it onto a man who was trying to sleep under nothing but a paper-thin blanket.

After that, he continued to search for his cat. A round or two of the park left him despondent, but he decided to check beneath that bush from earlier in the night. Just one more time.

“Chairman?” he cooed.

A familiar meow came back and he saw the head of an angel poke out.

“Oh! My baby!” he cried, pulling the creature close to his chest. “My beautiful baby.”

The chairman meowed in response.

“I know,” said Magnus. “I know, but we can’t go home just yet. We’re going to avoid confrontation and have Camille let herself out, aren’t we? Yes we are!”

He carried Chairman Meow through the streets, giving him soft kisses as they went. He didn’t know why, but they had wound up on the pier. The rumbling in his stomach told him that it was his instinctual desire for a hot dog. But he still didn’t have any money.

Instead, he perched with the Chairman on the railing. The warmth of the cat along with the drink made the cold night a little more bearable. 

As the sun began to rise behind them, Magnus whispered, “Listen, I know I’ve promised this before, but I mean it this time. It’s just going to be you and me. No more of that bitch who kicks you when she thinks I’m not looking, okay? Just you and me from now on."

The Chairman blinked and Magnus took that to mean he was happy with the news. Then Magnus blinked and his arms were empty.

He looked around desperately for his cat, turning this way and that until he was falling backwards into the river below.

Magnus stared at his own reflection. What had he just been doing?

The thought had barely formed before the feeling of drowning settled into his lungs. Panic pushed him to choke and a burst of water spouted from his mouth onto the floor.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

He did not wait for the knocking on the door before charging out of the bathroom. It was the same as the night before. Or the night before that? He had no idea what was real. He just knew that he had a distinct memory of living this night before. Of it ending in him drowning. There was also a niggling feeling in his side of his body being broken.

“Sweet Birthday Baby!” cried Clary.

Magnus marched over to her and plucked the joint from her mouth.

“What is in this?” he asked.

“Hey, wait your turn! I was gonna offer you some!”

“You already did!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I have to get out of here,” he said, turning to leave.

He was halfway down the stairs before he was falling. And then he was back in front of the mirror.

Turning on the heel of his boot, Magnus stormed back to the stairs.

“Sweet Birthday Baby!” cried Clary. “Where are you going?”

Magnus did not stop to offer an explanation. He was determined to get out. He was falling. He was leaning over the sink.

Again.

And Again.

“Where are you going?” Clary asked.

“I’m trying to get down the goddamn stairs!”

And his ankle twisted him right back into that bathroom.

“Sweet Birthday Baby!” cried Clary.

“Are you doing this to me?” he demanded, marching right up to her. “Is this a punishment? Is this because I invited Camille?”

“You invited Camille?” He plucked the joint from her fingers. “Magnus, what the fuck?”

“It’s this isn’t it? It’s this joint. I smoked this and I lost my mind!”

“Magnus, calm down! You haven’t even had any!”

“I can’t calm down okay I am living in a fucking nightmare. I mean, it’s killing me, Clary, it’s literally killing me. Why would you give me something that kills me?”

“Oh please. You have nothing to worry about! You’re a cockroach.”

“What? I’m not a cockroach! Why would you say that?”

“Because you’ll never die.”

Magnus leaned back into a wild cackle. He knew how he sounded and he did not care.

“I am dying constantly!” he shouted.

Every single person had turned to watch the spectacle.

“Okay, you know what, I’m leaving,” said Magnus, “Thanks for the chicken. The cake was fucking awful.”

He only took a second to enjoy Clary’s look of great offence before throwing on his coat and heading down the stairs.

“I cannot be fucking dealing with this,” he muttered.

Then his ankle twisted. Followed by his neck.

And he was staring at himself in the goddamn mirror.

“Fuck!”

He wanted to punch that mirror into pieces. He could do it. It would be fixed and shining with his own face the minute he tried to walk down a flight of stairs.

Maybe he was a cockroach. He was dying, sure, but he was also having a whole lot of trouble staying dead.

When he spotted Clary dancing around the kitchen, he felt the urge to apologise. It was stupid. She wouldn’t remember. But she was roasting him two whole chickens. And baking something that looked a lot like a cake.

He pulled out his phone, sent Camille a message telling her not to come, and sat down at the kitchen counter.

“Sweet Birthday Baby!” she cried.

“Hey, Biscuit,” he replied, deciding that honey was better than vinegar in any case. “What are you smoking?”

“It’s an Israeli joint.”

“Which means?”

“It’s laced with cocaine.”

Magnus considered this for a moment and held his hand out so he could take a drag. He’d definitely had cocaine before and he’d never been trapped in an endless cycle of death from it. He considered the stairs and could not face them. So maybe he’d stay this time. Maybe he didn’t have a choice. The one thing he could do, though, was send Camille a message telling her not to come to the party. Which was freeing.

* * *

 

The night passed far more pleasantly when he stayed close to Clary. Perhaps it was the practice, but his thirty-sixth birthday wasn’t so much of a horror show the ninth time around. He was even able to be his usual charming self with Izzy, getting to properly know the girl.

“Cat should be here soon,” she said, checking the time. “Shit, my chicken!”

Left alone for a moment while Clary fiddled with the oven, Izzy was the first to break the silence.

“So… Catholic?”

“Not by choice.”

“You’re not Catholic by choice, but you’ve got this giant fuck-off cross hanging from your neck?” asked Izzy.

“Yeah, that’s not by choice either.”

She looked at him curiously.

“It’s my mom’s,” he said, answering her silent question.

“I’ve got a mom just like that.”

“Cross and all?”

“Crosses. No hugging. No smiling. No taking the Lord’s name in vain. No break for my brother.”

“Is he okay?”

“Definitely not. But he won’t admit that. He won’t even lean back in a chair.”

Magnus snorted.

“That’s not an exaggeration!” she said.

“Shit,” breathed Magnus. “I thought I had problems."

“Your mom is incredible, Iz,” interrupted Clary. “I mean, your dad took off with his secretary when you were – what?”

“I was eight. Alec was eleven.”

“Right. She had the two of you and a baby and she was technically divorced.”

“Not that she’ll ever acknowledge it,” interjected Izzy. "She's still married in the eyes of the Lord. Apparently."

“And she’s a kickass professor.”

“She’s a headmistress. I wouldn’t call her kickass. Hard ass maybe.”

“She’s an inspiration. I mean, I’m almost twenty-three and what have I done with my life? I haven’t even got divorced yet.”

“I promise you, Biscuit, you have so much life left to live. There’s so much time for you to get divorced.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome.”

He was almost enjoying himself. Then he saw Catarina Loss walk through the front door and his mood improved beyond description.

 “Cat!” he cried, wrapping his arms around his dearest friend. “I missed you!”

“Oh, hello!” she said. “You know, we saw each other yesterday.”

“I just feel like I keep missing you.”

Cat tilted her head and looked at him with loving concern. His own heart burst with affection for her.

“If there’s a lesson to be learnt here it’s that I should never leave a party before you arrive,” he said.

“You were going to leave?”

“Don’t judge me.”

“You know me better than that, Magnus. I don’t judge. Not you anyway.”

Magnus felt tears welling up and looked around the room self-consciously.

“Do you think Clary will hate me forever if I ditch the party and crash at yours?”

“Let’s go either way. The sight of all these twenty-somethings are making me feel old as shit.”

* * *

 

It turned out that Clary was perfectly understanding of Magnus’ desire to bow out of the party early. So long as, and this was very important, he took at least half a chicken with him. He and Cat hunched over her kitchen table, digging into the bird with bare hands and barbeque sauce.

“So,” said Cat, picking at a wing, “Are you gonna tell me what’s up?”

“You know I’ve always had a thing about this birthday.”

“I do know that. That doesn’t mean I know what’s going on in your head right now.”

Magnus considered his options. Then he considered the woman across from him.

“You don’t judge me, right?” he asked.

“Never.”

“I keep dying.”

Her eyes widened.

“And,” he added, before she could comment on that alone, “Reliving the same night over and over. I got hit by a car. I fell off of the pier. Then I fell down the stairs. A lot of times. And every time I die, I come back in the same spot. I’m in Clary’s bathroom and it’s this night again.”

“Okay.”

Magnus laughed. It wasn’t okay, but he knew that wasn’t what she meant. She meant that she accepted, at the very least, that he believed this to be true.

“I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Hey!”

“I know, I know. We don’t use that word. I mean, I hate that word as much as anyone. But you have to admit sometimes it’s the only word that fits. And it feels right to say it. I am going crazy.”

Catarina’s brow crinkled gently.

Magnus pressed on, “I was so sure it was a side effect of this joint Clary had, but I think that was wishful thinking. I mean, I’ve done every illicit substance known to mankind and I’ve never experienced anything like this before.”

“Why do you want it to be the drugs?”

“If it’s not the drugs then that means it’s me. And it can’t be me.”

Catarina looked at him long and hard.

“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe it’s not you. Maybe it’s not the drugs. Maybe it’s something else entirely.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah, well, me neither.”

“You really believe this is happening?”

“It is happening, Cat.”

“Okay.” She smiled and he knew that she believed him. “I’ll make some tea.”

There was a clicking of the stove being turned on, a strike of a match. Then white hot bursting pain.

“Fuck!” screamed Magnus at the mirror in Clary’s bathroom.

He pulled out his phone and immediately dialed Cat’s number.

“Magnus?”

“Hey.”

There was a pounding on the bathroom door he ignored.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, just checking you’re alive is all.”

Cat laughed nervously and said, “Okay, well I’m on my way to Clary’s now but I can tell you’ve already had enough.”

“I’m stone cold sober.”

“Magnus.”

“Well, I’m more sober than I am most of the time. So it’s sober for me.”

“What’s wrong?”

The knocking on the door became unbearably irritating. Magnus pulled the phone down and screamed, “Just a minute!” before adding to Cat, “Listen, I’ve gotta go but you should go home and check for a gas leak.”

“I think I should check Clary’s for a gas leak.”

“I’m leaving anyway. It’s a bore. Go home.”

It wasn’t a lie; he’d planned to leave, but the sight of those stone stairs filled him with dread. So he stayed.

* * *

 

He woke up to blinding sunlight pouring in through the bare windows and a crick in his neck. Morning. He’d made it through to the morning before. That didn’t mean anything in particular.

He pulled out his phone a saw a reminder for a meeting with Paul. A programming review. He deleted it. Then, with shaking fingers, googled the nearest catholic church. The only thing left was to figure out how to get down the stairs. The sunlight streaming through the window caught his eye and he remembered, distantly, that he’d made it down the fire escape the very first night of the party. And it hadn’t killed him.

Magnus didn’t need to stare at his reflection to know his face was streamed with smudges of eye makeup, that his hair was wild from a night on the couch. A little Italian woman, knelt down before the Virgin Mary, gave him a strange look.

He gave her a wave which she pretended not to see.

It didn’t matter.

What mattered was the torture chamber of confession that lay just beyond the wooden door.

“Forgive me father it has been,” he paused before deciding on the truth, “Twenty-six years since my last confession.”

“What is troubling you, my child?”

“This is just between us, right?”

“Just us and the Lord.”

“Well, that’s a given. He’s always sticking his nose in. Does he have a nose? Is that something that the church has ever settled on? I know there was this big thing with angels and bellybuttons.”

“If it’s a theological question then we do offer classes.”

“No, I just want to know what you think. If we’re going to have a conversation, I want to know where you stand on a few things.”

“Like, if our Father has a nose?”

“Like if you believe in demons. Do you believe in demons? I know the official stance of the church, but what’s your stance?”

“I won’t pretend to know much about demons. But I do know there is evil that works its way in the shadows.”

“Inside of people?”

“Yes, evil works its way inside of people much of the time.”

“No. I mean,” Magnus swallowed hard and said, “Do you believe that a person can be possessed by a demon?”

“I’m not an expert on demonic possession. If you have questions on that…”

“If someone died. And came back. And died. And then came back. Over and over. Is that a sign of something? Like a sign that someone is irredeemably… cosmically… theologically… fucked?”

“You’re talking about resurrection. That’s something entirely different.”

Magnus tried to force down a sob, but could not restrain the whine that accompanied it.

“Is everything alright?”

“Not really. I was hoping for a clear-cut answer. I don’t know why I came here for that.”

“Do you have a reason to believe you’re suffering from demonic possession?”

Magnus could no longer breathe. He had to get out of that wooden box. He had to burst free of the casket.

The cool wind both whipped a soothed. A cat of nine tails. A cat in his arms. He ran as fast and far as his feet would take him until he fell face-first through an open basement grate and into Clary’s bathroom.

“Fuck!” he cried.

Venturing out into the crowd, he grabbed the first drink he could get his hands on.

“Alright,” he said, both to himself and the room at large. “Here we go again.”

In the distance he heard Clary calling, “Sweet Birthday Baby!”

* * *

 

He woke up in the same position as he had the morning before, neck crooked on the sofa, his own coat as a blanket.

He wondered absent-mindedly how the man with the paper-thin blanket was doing and made a mental note to buy a shit-ton of blankets to give out in the park. If, that was, he ever made it to a new day.

“Morning!”

Magnus turned to see Clary pouring coffee.

“Want some?” she asked through a yawn.

“No,” he said. “No. I’ve gotta go to a meeting.”

Because the one thing he hadn’t tried was doing what he was supposed to do. He stood up and made his way towards the window.

“What are you doing?” asked Clary.

“Using the fire escape. Don’t ask. It’s a long story.”

“I have a fire escape?”

He managed to get home, shower, change, and walk across town to the office block without dying. It occurred to him then that he’d never made it that long into a loop before.

The meeting would have been boring without the existential, universe bending crap going on in his head. Not to mentioned he’d sent Cat a text asking if she was alive and she’d yet to respond.

“Magnus,” said someone firmly, a little irritated, as though it wasn’t the first time. “I just said there was a bug in your code.”

“Huh,” said Magnus, “Can I take a look?”

Paul lifted his hands up in concession as Magnus pulled the laptop towards him.

“It looks like Mike left a mistake in here. That’s why it’s not working properly. It’ll only take a second to sort out. Do you mind?”

“You don’t have to do it now.”

“It’s no trouble.”

Magnus tapped away, knowing his skill was irritating the room at large. Not that he cared.

“There you go,” he said, pushing the laptop back across the table.

Before the meeting could continue, a ringing from Magnus’ pocket interrupted.

“Oh,” he said, “I have to take this. I’ve gotta check my friend is still alive.”

He darted out of the room.

“Catarina!” he cried, answering the phone.

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Everything’s perfect now I’ve heard your voice. Gas leak sorted?”

“I don’t have a gas leak.”

“Did you check?”

After a long sigh, she admitted, “Yes. But only because you freaked me out about it.”

“Well, better safe than sorry.”

“What are you doing now? I don’t have any clients and I didn’t get to give you your present last night.”

“I’ll be right over.”

Magnus popped back into the meeting room.

“Sorry,” he said. “Just need to grab my stuff.”

“The meeting’s not over!” cried Mike.

But Magnus was already gone.

* * *

 

He stepped into the elevator a little reluctantly. It was crammed. But he might die any second, so he thought he better seize whatever moment he was given. A second before the doors closed, another man came bursting in, bringing the population of the elevator from uncomfortable to unbearable.

Magnus reached out to press the button for the ground floor a couple more times as though it might move things along.

It seemed there was a stop every five seconds, but at least there were more people getting off then getting on.

A third of the way from the top floor, Magnus had enough room to not be pushed up against anyone. With his newfound freedom, he let his eyes travel.

The man who had burst on last minute was still there, fidgeting with something at his side.

Magnus’ curiosity got the better of him and he tried to take a peak. It was, unfortunately, obscured by the man’s jacket.

Magnus was about to give up and check his phone, when he caught his eye on the man inside of the jacket.

He was taller than Magnus, tall enough to take the breath away. And his face was so beautiful Magnus almost forgot the promise he’d made to his missing cat in an alternate timeline.

He might have asked for the man’s number regardless, had he not finally gotten a good look at the object in his hand.

It was a small box with a gold “G” embossed on the top. A ring box. It seemed her was spoken for.

Magnus tried to ignore the man’s presence, but it was made rather impossible by the constant fidgeting with the box, like it was a Rubik’s cube; a puzzle to be solved.

Magnus did not mean to, but gave the box a weary look.

The man immediately became flustered and pocketed the thing.

And then the lights cut out. And the elevator stuttered. And then it was falling at a deadly speed.

A woman screamed at everyone to lie down on the floor, as though there was a chance at surviving.

Magnus simply huffed. Back to the bathroom, he guessed. What confused him, though, was the equal indifference that the man with the box displayed.

“Hey, didn’t you get the news?” said Magnus. “We’re about to die.”

“It’s okay,” he replied.

His voice was deep. Calm. Soothing. If Magnus had been afraid to die, that voice might have relieved a little fear. “I die all the time.”

Magnus saw no hint of a lie in the statement.

Unable to contain his smile, he replied, "Me too."


	2. Ken

Alec finished scrubbing his hands clean and looked up to see his dimly lit reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“Ten,” he breathed.

Ten deaths. Ten failures. He’d get it right this time.

After thoroughly drying his hands, he ventured back out onto the bustling restaurant floor. There, in the center of it all, sat Lydia, staring blankly into her wineglass.

“Hi,” he greeted, a wide smile set on his face, reclaiming his seat. “We should skip champagne and dessert. This was a mistake.”

Lydia looked relieved, like she was going to say something.

“On my part,” he continued quickly, not ready to give up control of the conversation just yet. “The restaurant was a bad idea. Public breakups are harder. We should talk about this in private.”

Lydia glanced around before leaning forwards and saying quietly, “I wasn’t going to break up with you here.”

“Not at first. But I was about to push you too far.”

Before she could question him, the waiter walked past. Just as always. At that exactly moment.

“Excuse me,” said Alec. “Could I get the bill?”

He had learnt, from the nights he’d lived long enough to make it out of the restaurant, that the walk back to Lydia’s apartment should be hasty and silent. He kept a few paces ahead and steered any attempt, on her part, at conversation towards the pointless and harmless.

Small comments here and there on the quality of the meal.

If he caught Lydia’s eye there was distinct worry running circles around her pupils. So he kept his head forwards.

They weren’t far.

When they entered Lydia’s apartment, she allowed him to take her coat while she poured herself another glass of wine. She did not bother offering Alec any. She had known him long enough to understand he only drank when socially pressed.

“Can we talk now?” she asked, perching on an arm chair. Alec sat across from her, straight-backed and smiling. “You’re ready to talk about it?”

“Whenever you are.”

Lydia sighed and took a big gulp.

“So… we have to break up,” she said.

“We don’t.”

“Well then we should.”

“No, we should get married.”

Lydia almost choked on her wine.

Alec pressed on, “We’ve been together for seven years, Lydia. We’re well past our due date.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Look, I know it’s a bit overwhelming, but I think it would be best for both of us.”

“Alec, come on! This has to stop. I know you're unhappy." His jaw tightened. “You never want to talk about what’s really happening here. And if we break up, then we have to talk about why. And if we talk about why…” Lydia broke off, going glassy, “Alec, I don’t know what you’ll do.”

“I’m not a child!”

“I didn’t say you were! See, this is what I mean you’re so sensitive to every little thing.”

Alec resented that deeply. He was anything but sensitive, not when he spent so much time and energy meticulously crafting his space in the world. He knew how to react. He knew how to behave. He knew how to suppress. Repress.

Lydia continued, “And any time I so much as hint at a problem you spend the rest of the day trying to solve it. Sometimes I just want to talk about the problems. The problem.”

“There’s no problem.”

“Alec, I’m trapped.”

“I can back off, give you more space,” he said, scrambling.

“All you give me is space. All we have is space away from each other. We’re not exactly a convincing couple.”

“Well, then we’ll spend more time together.”

His hands felt too big and he needed to grab onto something. He needed to take control of the situation. She was leading. He was stepping on his own feet.

“Alec!”

Her raised voice caused him to start and spill the wine.

“I can fix that,” he said quickly, rubbing at the small pool of liquid with his own sleeve.

“Alec.”

He kept rubbing.

“Alec! It’s clean.”

He did not want to stop. He was not ready to relinquish.

“Stop it! Stop trying to fix everything! You can’t!”

“I can! I can fix this. I can fix us if you just let me try.”

“I have been watching you try for seven years, Alec. I’m exhausted. Aren’t you?”

“No!” he cried. “No, this isn’t how it was supposed to go.”

Lydia looked at him with such immeasurable pity. Shame covered every inch of his being, like moths on a flickering lamp.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally.

“It’s okay.”

“No. It’s not okay. But it will be. I’ll do better next time.”

He walked home, got ready for bed, slept through the night, and woke up the next morning. All without dying. Which was a bit of a disappointment.

He checked the time and a reminder popped up: tell mom.

Tell her what? He supposed it didn’t matter. He could tell her anything and it would have no lasting damage. With renewed purpose, Alec rolled out of bed.

* * *

 

His mother was just getting out of a meeting with a member of the school board. He knew this. He had known the exact timing of this since he’d booked the restaurant.

“Hi, Mom,” he called softly.

She beamed upon seeing him.

“Oh, hi honey. What are you doing here? How did you know I’d be here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Mom, its fine!” he laughed. “I wanted to come tell you something?”

He did not tell her that he’d checked her schedule repeatedly in the weeks leading up to the proposal. He did not tell her that the telling was the only reason he’d even considered asking Lydia to marry him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You look-”

“I proposed to Lydia.”

The weight of the ring box sat heavy in the pocket of his jacket, but the bright smile that spread across his mother’s face made it feather-light for a second. Just a second.

“Oh, Alec!” she cried. “I’m so proud of you!”

When she threw her arms around his neck, holding him tightly, he imagined a world in which he was allowed to keep this moment.

If he couldn’t get the proposal right, he could at least have this.

For just a second.

Just a second.

She pulled back.

“Have you told your sister?”

“No. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

“She’ll be so happy for you!”

No, he thought, she wouldn’t be. But she might be placated if he promised she could choose her own dress.

* * *

 

As he wandered back to the elevator, his mind was strictly set on the subject of making Lydia understand. He could not offer her love, he knew, but they had agreed a very long time ago that that didn’t matter. Love was no basis for marriage. His parents were evidence of that. It was about creating a solid foundation; a strong partnership.

The doors were closing, and he slipped inside quickly.

It was very full. He should have waited. Being this close to strangers in such a small space made it hard to think clearly.

Then he saw the most beautiful man in the corner of the elevator and it was impossible to think clearly.

Streaks of makeup and heavy bags sat beneath his brown eyes. It was frustrating that he looked good in spite of it. It was frustrating that he didn’t seem to care how much his clothing and hair stood out among all those suits and white blouses.

He was a sparkling reminder of everything he was fighting against. He tried to steady his breathing, to look at anything other than his undeniable attraction towards this man.

He fumbled for the box in his pocket, just to check that it was still there, that he hadn’t left an obvious clue to his lies for his mother to find.

His hand found it easily and he pulled it out to check that the ring hadn’t fallen out. Or been damaged. Or anything. Anything at all. He just wanted to check.

There sat the family ring, glittering in all its potential. All its constrictions. He closed it. Then opened it. It was soothing to be able to do something with his hands.

He suddenly got the sense that he was being watched. With a quick glance to his right he saw that the sparkling stranger was eyeing the ring box as Alec fiddled with it ceaselessly. Suddenly embarrassed, Alec stuffed the box back into his pocket. He hadn’t even realised how irritating the clicking sound of the thing opening and closing must be.

And then everything went dark and a sudden lurch threw his stomach to the ceiling.

It wasn’t a bad time to restart, he thought. He didn’t know where he’d go after this.

A woman was screaming for everyone to get down on the floor. Alec didn’t bother.

“Hey,” came a voice from his side. Alec turned to see the sparkling man still standing. “Didn’t you get the news, we’re about to die?” he asked.

“It’s alright. I die all the time.”

The stranger smiled and it tugged on Alec’s heartstrings.

Then, he said, “Me too.”

Alec almost fell forwards into the sink. What number was it? Eleven. It was the eleventh time he’d come back to that point. What time was it?

There was a schedule. There was a waiter he needed to catch. A champagne order he needed to cancel.

* * *

 

“This was a mistake,” he said.

“You’re right.”

“We should talk in private?”

“Would you prefer that?” she asked, gently reaching out to him across the table.

Oh, he didn’t like that. Was that pity in her eyes?

“I think it’s best,” he said firmly, trying to shift his features away from any pitiful emotion.

He was fine. He would be fine. Everything was going according to schedule.

He turned to catch the waiter, but he had already begun to attend to another table.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

“We don’t need to go into detail if you don’t want, Alec. I understand. It’s not like we didn’t both see the end coming. Like we haven’t known.”

“No, that’s not what I want.”

“Alec,” she said, with all that pity he resented so much. “It’s okay. It’s time to stop pretending.”

“I thought we were going to discuss this in private.”

“Of course.”

His heart was beating so very fast. It felt as though everyone was looking at him. This was dangerously close to that first night. The part of it he could remember anyway. Before the drink had boiled his blood right away from his brain. Before the blackness set in.

He glanced around for their waiter, but he was nowhere to be seen.

It was so difficult to focus right there and then.

There was someone else experiencing the same thing as him. Either that or he had met a crazy person. Or he was a crazy person. He stumbled away from that particular thought for fear of falling off the sheer edge of it.

“Alec, I can talk to your mom about it,” said Lydia.

He snapped back to reality.

 “I can say it was all me. You don’t have to, you know, tell her… well, you know.”

He did know. Of course he knew. And of course she knew too. That was what he liked so much about her. That was why he wanted so desperately to bind his life to hers. It didn’t require conversation or acknowledgement. It was understood. It was easy. Another woman might need more. Besides, his mother liked Lydia a lot.

His mother would not like that man in the elevator.

He filed away all thoughts of that man and tried to focus on Lydia.

“You don’t think we’ve got a solid partnership?” he asked.

They looked right next to one another. It fit. It made sense. Logically, they should be getting married. His phone was ringing; it was Izzy. He declined the call trying not to wonder why this time, for the first time since the loops had started, Izzy had reached out to him at that moment.

“Alec, you know I love you,” said Lydia softly. “And that’s one of the main reasons we need to stop this.”

He could not look at her. He refused to accept the pity she was so kindly offering.

“This isn’t right,” he said.

“Exactly.”

“No. I mean, all of this,” he gestured vaguely between the two of them. “This whole night. This conversation. I’ll do better next time.”

“Alec, what are you talking about?”

But he was already grabbing his coat and slamming down his card.

“Order whatever you want. It’s on me,” he said.

Out in the street and looking for a car he might be able to throw himself in front of, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket again.

Izzy again.

“Hey, Iz,” he said. “Listen I can’t talk right now.”

“Alexander Lightwood,” came a vaguely familiar voice from the other end.

His heart seized. It couldn’t be, he thought. It could not be that guy from the elevator. It just sounded like him.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“We met yesterday. Kind of. Also kind of tomorrow. Listen, where are you?”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been trying to figure out what the story behind this whole dying over and over thing is. And I think now I know why I’ve not been able to figure it out.”

Alec closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

The man continued, “Can you meet me at the park?”

* * *

 

Alec did not want to go to the park. He did not want to talk about the night he kept reliving and he certainly did not want to find a way out of it. Not when he still hadn’t figured out how to fix it. But he found himself agreeing to meet anyway.

“Alexander?”

Alec looked up and there was the man. More beautiful than his memory had allowed for. The ring box in his pocket got a whole lot heavier.

“Hi,” said Alec.

“I’m Magnus Bane.”

With a smile, held out a hand for Alec to shake and, as he took it, Alec could not help but smile back.

“It’s actually Alec,” he said. “I don’t usually go by Alexander.”

“Well, nothing about this whole thing is usual Alexander. Come on, let’s sit and talk a while.”

 Alec did not know why he felt so at ease all of a sudden. His mind was screaming at him to leave, to walk into traffic and to get back to solving the Lydia problem. But his body was relaxed. Like all the tension had leaked out of him at the simple sound of Magnus’ voice.

They sat side-by-side on a bench, not touching. The distance between them was not enough, Alec knew. He shuffled until he was right at the edge. Magnus noticed this. But he did not comment. He shuffled to his own end with a curious smile.

Alec did not like that.

“I didn’t recognise you at first,” said Magnus. “But then I saw you in a photograph with your sister.”

“How do you know my sister?”

“She lives with my friend Clary. I was there for a party. My party.”

Alec recalled something about a Magnus and a birthday party. He’d dismissed it almost immediately, but the memory was there in some dusty corner of his mind.

“Oh. Happy Birthday,” he said stupidly.

“I mean, it doesn’t feel like my birthday anymore. It feels like an unending nightmare of pain and despondency. Actually, you know what, that’s exactly what birthdays are.”

Alec let out a small breathy laugh. It wasn't the joke that had gotten to him, but this sudden appearance of a person who might have some understanding of what he was going through.

“How many times have you died?” he asked Magnus.

“Ten. This is the eleventh time I’ve lived this night.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah? That’s interesting. Do you think we’re the only ones?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”

"Well, what do you think’s happening? Because I thought maybe I was trapped in an existential cosmic prison of my own making, but now you’re here. And I don’t know that I can be responsible for your suffering.”

“Does it matter why?”

“Of course it does! If we can figure out why then we can figure out how to stop it.”

Alec hesitated, not knowing how to word what it was he felt. Why he was so reluctant to end the cycle.

“What?” prodded Magnus. “You don’t wanna get out?”

Carefully, Alec said, “I don’t think it’s in our control. I’m just doing my best with the time I’ve got.”

“I cannot imagine there’s any good that can come from this. I mean, what are you doing? Going around and slapping everyone you ever dreamed of slapping? Sleeping with everyone you ever dreamed of sleeping with? Both at the same time?”

“What? No!”

“I just don't understand how you can be enjoying this.”

“I didn’t say I was enjoying it. But it’s nice to be given chances to get things right.” 

“What did you get so wrong the first time?”

“My girlfriend… she broke up with me.”

“Girlfriend?” asked Magnus, irritatingly surprised.

“Yeah. I asked her to marry me and she… did not accept.”

“To put it mildly. You think that’s something you can fix in one night? How bad was the proposal that it was the key factor in driving her to reject you?”

“It wasn’t the proposal. The proposal was perfect.”

“Evidently not.”

“She just didn’t understand. I need to make her understand that this problem she thinks is such a big deal - isn’t.”

“What’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem.”

Magnus looked at him carefully and Alec felt incredibly exposed.

“You don’t think you being gay is a problem in your relationship?” he asked.

Alec started and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would you say that?”

“Call it a hunch. Call it gaydar. Call it like knowing like. It’s not a judgement.”

“Like knowing like?”

“I’m sorry, do I seem like a straight man?”

“It’s not like that. I’m not like you.”

“Not exactly, no. I’m attracted to women.”

“It’s not about attraction. It’s about circumstance. Okay, there are people I’m responsible for. I owe my mom everything.”

“She doesn’t owe you anything?”

“Don’t get cryptic.”

“That wasn’t me being cryptic. That was me being critical. I can be cryptic if it helps the conversation along.”

“I don’t want to have this particular conversation at all.”

“I just want to get everything clear. You are using your dying hours to convince a woman you are not in love with to spend the rest of her life with you. Even though she knows you’re hiding something.”

“I’m not hiding anything from her.”

“Well that makes it so much better. You can both be completely open with each other about how miserable you are. That is, if we figure out how to stay alive for longer than a day.”

“Look, it’ll be fine with Lydia. I’ll make it fine. I was getting a handle on it until I ran into you and you messed with my head. It ruined this attempt.”

“I’m sorry? Are you saying I ruined your night? Did the constant dying not already put enough of a dampener on it?”

Alec looked around frantically. The park was basically empty save for a few homeless men, but he still felt very much as though he was being watched.

“Can we talk about this in private?” he asked, voice small and God, why did he have to sound like such a child?

“Of course,” said Magnus softly. “I live nearby.”

The idea of going to Magnus’ place made his chest feel tight, made breathing difficult.

“I’d rather go to mine,” he said.

A brief flicker of confusion at that statement flitted across Magnus’ face. But it was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

“Okay,” said Magnus. “Lead the way.”

* * *

 

He could not pretend to be completely comfortable with Magnus in his space, but at least it was his space. It was something he could control.

“Okay, so what are your theories? Because right now my leading one is that we’re the same person,” said Magnus, strolling across the threshold and speaking as though this was a conversation about what to have for dinner. “Hey, tell me if you can feel this.”

He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and brought the flame up to the palm of his hand. Alec winced at the sight of it, but he did not feel any pain in his own hand and he told Magnus this.

“You sure?” he asked.

“We’re not the same person,” said Alec.

“Well, what do you think is happening? You said you hadn’t thought about it, but you must have a theory. It must have crossed your mind.”

Alec considered it for a moment. Of course it had crossed his mind. And he had accepted his first assumption without question.

“I guess I think it’s a punishment.”

“Like from God?”

“Maybe. I mean, I haven’t been to church that much recently.”

“No. That’s ridiculous. So back to my theories. My second one is that there’s a glitch in the matrix.”

Alec looked back blankly, unable to tell if Magnus was being serious.

Magnus picked up on the silence and continued, “Or one of us pissed off a witch and the other one just got caught in the crossfire. What did you do that first night?”

“I don’t remember.”

“What do you mean you don’t remember?”

“I don’t remember anything past the restaurant.”

“So you don’t know how you died the first time?”

“Does that matter?”

“Maybe. If it involved a witch.”

“There’s no witch.”

“This isn’t going to be any fun if you keep rejecting my theories.”

“You rejected mine!”

“Because it was arrogant and simplistic like the catholic church. I mean, I’m supposed to believe that we’re stuck in a cosmic death loop because the universe has decided we don’t go to church enough?”

“Okay, well your theory was that we’re the same person. How does that make any sense?”

“You’re right,” said Magnus, glancing at his surroundings with a sour expression. “I would never live like this.”

“What’s wrong with my apartment?”

“Nothing… if you’re a middle class white mom who knows her husband’s been sleeping with her sister for the past five years and uses minimalist design and bleach to cope.”

“It’s too clean? How can something be too clean?”

“It’s like you murdered someone in here last night. I can smell the bleach.”

“It smells clean.”

“No, it smells like something’s dirty and you want to cover it up. Externalizing your internalized homophobia, perhaps?”

“What are you a therapist?”

“Oh, no. The world is a nightmare, but it’s not bad enough to allow for me to give people advice. Although, one thing I do know, Alexander,” Magnus paused for a moment before saying, with complete conviction, “You don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being gay,” said Alec, trying not to cringe at the word. “Or Bi,” he added quickly.

"Oh, thanks for the mention.”

“But it’s just… it’s not me. It can’t be.”

“Because of your mom?”

“Yeah," said Alec, voice breaking as he began to cry.

“I get that.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

They stood without speaking for a moment.

The silence was painful and it seemed Magnus felt it too because he said, “So, maybe we don’t feel each other’s pain, but do you think we’re dying at the same time?”

A great thud from above made them both turn their attention upwards as the ceiling fell down.

* * *

 

Alec stared back at his own reflection. He was still red-eyed from crying, but there was no blood on his face nor dust in his hair.

He would get it right this time, he thought. He wouldn’t be crying the next time he saw his own face in the mirror.

“Hi,” he greeted, taking his seat. “We should get married.”

It came out before he could control it, but he supposed it was the one thing he had yet to try.

“I’m sorry?” said Lydia.

“We should get married.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s the logical next step.”

“It’s anything but logical. Alec,” she lowered her voice and leaned forwards, “Are you feeling okay?”

“I feel great.”

Lydia scowled, leaning a little closer as though she might examine him.

“Come on,” he said, putting on a smile. “Don’t you think it’s time we got married?”

“No,” she whispered. “I think it’s time we broke up.”

Alec shook his head.

“You’re wrong,” he said.

“Alec.” And her face had all that pity on it. Too much for him to meet her eye. “You don’t want to marry me.”

“I don’t need you to tell me what I want,” he said.

“Okay, then it can be just for me. Because I know I’m not happy.”

Then she started crying. He heard it before he saw it, still afraid of meeting her eye. But it was impossible for him to not reach out to her in turn when she looked so very sad.

“I thought this was what you wanted,” he said.

“I did. When John died, I thought I would never fall in love again. Which is why we were so perfect together.”

“You’ve changed your mind?”

"Yeah. I did a few years back.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You’re so wound up. I feel like you’re always on the edge. And I didn’t want to be the one to push you over.”

He hated that she was treating him like a child. But he hated himself more. He always hated himself more, hated that this was the first time in almost seven years that he'd really heard her.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be sorry, Alec. Just be happy. Okay? You deserve it.”

Alec nodded and his heart exploded. He looked up into the mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment if you enjoyed this chapter! thank you so much for reading <3


	3. Mourning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tws: overdosing and suicide mentions particularly in this chapter

Magnus groaned as he saw his own reflection once more. He hadn’t even tried to walk down the stairs, just slipped on a spilt drink and smashed his skull on something hard.

He did not wait for the knock on the door before pulling the trigger and bursting back out into the crowd.

“Izzy!” he cried.

Izzy turned, clearly confused to see Magnus of all people calling out to her.

“Can I borrow your phone?” he asked. “I got mine all wet and it’s frozen.”

“Erm… sure,” she said.

She passed him her unlocked phone and he immediately sent Alec a text which read, “Did you die again? About ten minutes in? – Magnus”

A second later, he received a reply.

(Alec): yes

(Magnus): where shall we try and meet – Magnus

No reply.

Magnus wandered mindlessly towards the kitchen, staring down at Izzy’s phone, tapping it every few seconds to prevent it from locking.

“Sweet Birthday Baby!” cried Clary.

“Hey, Biscuit,” replied Magnus, not looking up. “Listen, this party is great but I might have to duck out early.”

“What the fuck? Why? I’m making chicken!”

“I’m chasing a man.”

“Is he hot?” asked Clary, blowing smoke across the counter and fogging the phone screen for a split second. “He better be fucking stunning or I’m gonna eat this half-raw chicken in sadness.”

“Oh, he’s beautiful. I just can’t get him to text me back.”

“Is it because that’s Izzy’s phone?”

“Yeah, it’s her brother,” said Magnus.

Because it didn’t matter. He was going to die. None of this was set.

“Isn’t he about a hundred feet deep in the closet?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Maybe that’s why he’s not texting back.”

Magnus stared down at the screen for a second longer. Simon was sending Izzy a nauseating number of emoji-filled messages. But still nothing from Alec.

“You might be right,” said Magnus, tossing the phone onto the counter. “I’m gonna have to get invasive.”

“Follow your heart! Wear a condom!”

“Thanks, Biscuit.”

“Where are you going?”

Magnus had grabbed his coat and headed for the fire escape. He did not bother giving a reply. There was a time crunch; a grand piano swinging over his head.

His feet landed firmly on the pavement and he swivelled left. With great yet cautious strides he carried himself to Alec’s apartment block. It was only when he was standing by the locked doors to the building, a panel of buttons before him, that he did not know what he would do if Alec was not home. He should have written down the man’s number.

Magnus pressed a painted finger to the button beside “A. Lightwood” and waited. He then repeated this.

A crackling voice replied, “Who is it?”

“You know who it is,” said Magnus, impatient.

He heard a heavy sigh and some fidgeting.

“Look,” Alec said, “I’m not really in the mood for company.”

“Well, suck it up and deal out some good old fashioned Christian kindness. I don’t know about you, but I want to get to the bottom of this mess before having my neck broken fifty times.”

There was only silence. Alec had killed the conversation. Magnus considered pressing every single button repeatedly until some irritated neighbour let him in.

In fact, he was just about to do this, when the door clicked open.

His head turned and he darted in.

* * *

 

Alec answered his own front door with a little less preamble.

“Hello,” said Magnus, stepping past Alec and inside the apartment.

“I meant it when I said I wasn’t in the mood for company, you know.”

“I meant it when I said I suck it up.”

Alec shot him a look of utter exasperation which Magnus sloughed off with ease, journeying further into the apartment and flopping onto Alec’s sofa. It was not comfortable.

“So,” said Magnus, wriggling a little to find a non-existent soft spot in the cushions, “We know we’re dying at the same time.”

“I guess.”

“But we don’t feel each other’s pain. And we don’t always die in the same way. At least I don’t think we do. How did you die last time?”

“Heart attack.”

“So different deaths at the same time. Still a clear link.”

“Look,” sighed Alec, perching on the arm of what appeared to be an equally uncomfortable armchair, “I don’t really know what you want from me.”

Magnus could not quite believe the direction this conversation was going. Or rather, the lack of direction. It was a battle with a brick wall in the face of the apocalypse.

“I’m sorry,” stammered Magnus, “But how are you being so nonchalant about this?”

“I’m not being nonchalant,” said Alec, a little defensively. “I just have other things on my mind.”

“Okay, can you tell me what’s more important that breaking this endless cycle of death and misery we’ve found ourselves in?”

Alec shook his head and let out a great sigh. As though, in all of this, Magnus was the one being ridiculous.

“Fine,” laughed Magnus. “I suppose I’ll leave you to it. Hey, when you decide you’re done with this nightmare – come and find me.”

Magnus stood to storm out, pausing at the door when he realised that he did not know where he would go. He had run the course of this night every conceivable way. What he wanted, more than anything, was for it to end.

He swallowed. Hard. And then turned back to face Alec.

“Actually,” he said. “No. No, we’re going to sort this out now and you’re going to stop being ridiculous.”

Alec scoffed, but Magnus pressed on, “We’ve established we’re dying at the same time. At least since the loop began. Now, I know you don’t remember your first death, but do you remember anything from before then?”

“Some of it. Yeah.”

“What happened?”

Alec looked pained and Magnus felt the ghost of guilty pangs flash through his chest.

The world was ending. On repeat. It would not do to be delicate with feelings.

“I told you what happened,” said Alec.

“Tell me again,” said Magnus softly.

With a slow nod and an even slower exhale, Alec began, “I had planned everything perfectly. I took Lydia to dinner and at the end, ordered champagne, got down on one knee and asked her to marry me.”

He paused to wince.

“Anyway,” he continued, “She said no. You know that bit. Then we got into this huge argument. Because I refused to listen to her. And because I felt like she wasn’t listening to me. And I felt like the whole restaurant was listening to us.”

Alec paused once more, this time on the cusp of what sounded like a sob. But he set himself right and was speaking calmly a moment later.

“I didn’t want her to say it out loud.”

“What the problem was?”

“There was more than one problem,” laughed Alec. “But, no, you’re right, I didn’t want her to say what my problem was. Is.”

“It’s not a problem, Alec. It’s just a fact of who you are.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know. I do know that Lydia left and that I finished the champagne myself. I ordered more to drink. A lot more. After that… I don’t remember anything.”

Magnus nodded.

“Is that it?” asked Alec. “Is that everything you want from me?”

“For now.”

“What about you? What happened your first night?”

Magnus fumbled, trying to figure out the best place to start.

“You know what – why don’t I show you?” he said, strolling backwards towards the door. “Maybe you’ll see something I missed.”

“Won’t we be starting a little late?” asked Alec, not moving from his perch on the arm of the chair.

“You know the address,” said Magnus. “Come as soon as you can.”

“What are you going to do now?”

Magnus smiled and said, “Oh, I’m going to get things moving.”

* * *

 

With a great slam of metal into his side, Magnus stared back at his own reflection. He had known what to expect from the car crash. It had not made it any less awful.

He reached down to feel for smashed bones and gushing blood. There was not even a scratch.

“Okay,” said Magnus. “Let’s do this.”

He pulled the trigger, laughed a little at the vaginal mural on the door, and joined his party. As he did so, he passed that framed picture of Alec and Izzy. He had seen Alec force a smile, but the unadulterated joy he exuded with his arm around his sister was something else entirely. God he was beautiful. Magnus knew he should chastise himself for thinking it, for imagining his own hand clutched in Alec’s own. But the romantic inside him grew fat and happy from the rush.

It was all in those strong hands now – whether or not he took up Magnus’ invitation.

“Sweet Birthday Baby!” came Clary’s sweet voice from the kitchen.

“Hey, Biscuit! Are you making chicken? It smells incredible.”

That was what he had done the first night, he thought, taking the joint Clary offered. He’d sat with her for a moment. It felt different anyway. Everything was less sharp. Everything was in focus.

“Hey,” greeted Izzy.

“Isabelle!” he cried joyfully, honestly. “That bathroom door is fantastic. Did you have anything to do with it?”

“She made it,” said Clary.

“No, you made it! I just built it.”

“Team effort,” said Magnus, taking a long drag from the joint. “The best things usually are.”

Izzy let out a tinkling laugh before freezing, eyes wide.

“Everything okay?” asked Magnus.

“My brother’s here,” she breathed. “Either that or I’m a lot drunker than I thought.”

Magnus shot upright and craned his neck to spot Alec.

“No,” said Magnus, warmth pooling within, “No, I see him too.”

“You know my brother?” asked Izzy.

Magnus could answer her during another rendition of that night. In that moment, he needed to get to Alec.

“You came!” he greeted, trying not to seem too surprised or pleased.

“Yeah,” said Alec. “Well, I suppose you were right. I didn’t really have anything better to do. And I was also a little worried you’d keep killing us until I showed up.”

“Oh, that would be cruel,” laughed Magnus. “But not a terrible idea.”

“Alec!”

They turned to see Izzy running towards them.

“I didn’t think you were coming!” she cried before throwing her arms around him.

“Well, I changed my mind,” he said.

“He’s here to see me,” said Magnus.

Alec shot him a look over his sister’s head. Izzy released Alec and looked questioningly between them.

Magnus hastily continued, “It’s a surprise for you and Clary. We need to discuss it and – well you know your brother. He’s impossible to pin down.”

Izzy smirked knowingly.

“Alright,” she teased. “I’ll let you two get on with it.”

She pressed her forefinger to her thumb and gave Alec a wink.

Once free from Izzy’s presence, Alec grabbed Magnus’ elbow and hissed, “She thinks something’s going on with us.”

Magnus raised an eyebrow.

“Does it matter?” he asked. “It’ll all reset itself soon enough.”

Alec looked as though he was desperately trying to find an argument against Magnus’ point. Coming up short, he simply sighed and said, “Fine. So, walk me through your night.”

“Okay, well I spoke a bit with your sister and Clary.”

“Right.”

“And then I walked over here to be by myself,” said Magnus, pushing through the crowd until he reached the familiar corner of bookshelves and fish.

Standing idle in the corner was a familiar man with a ponytail and a glass of wine.

“I came over here and spoke to that man,” said Magnus.

“Excuse me?” replied the man.

“Lorenzo!” cried Magnus. “That was it.”

“Do I know you?” asked Lorenzo.

“Yeah, I listened to this man talk for – God, it must have been about an hour. But I zoned out for most of it. And just stared into the fish tank.” Lorenzo let out a huff of offensive and swept off into the crowd. “Huh. I could have sworn Clary had more than one fish.”

“It’s a pretty huge tank for just a goldfish,” agreed Alec, leaning closely.

“And then… then Camille showed up.”

“Who’s Camille?”

Magnus stared right at Mustard swimming into its ocean and said, “My ex.”

“Your ex gate-crashed your birthday party?”

“Not exactly,” said Magnus, wincing. “I invited her.”

Alec shot him a deeply curious look which Magnus instinctively wrote lines of judgment into.

“I know it’s better to let her go,” said Magnus quickly. “But when I drink too much, I lose all that restraint. So, I called her and invited her.”

“You still love her,” said Alec knowingly.

“I don’t. I mean, I don’t want anything bad to happen to her. But I also don’t ever want to have to speak to her again.”

“So why did you call her?”

Magnus sighed and sat on a nearby chair. Alec stayed standing.

“Because letting go is very hard,” said Magnus. “See, if I let her go then I’ve got to move on. And if I move on then I’ve got to deal with the fact that there might never be another person who sees the worst of me… and sticks around.”

“Why not? You done something bad?” asked Alec, an inflection of humour.

“I don’t know that I’m bad. I’m more…”

“Broken?”

“Broken implies a chance of getting fixed. I’m just unlovable, all the way down. Camille doesn’t really have the capacity to love. It felt sort of perfect. But perfect isn’t always good. Like you and Lydia.”

Alec gave a small inclination of his head in concession.

“So Camille showed up,” Alec prompted.

“And then I… I left through the window.”

Magnus put his glass down and darted towards the same window, clambering out. As he began to climb down the fire escape, he spotted a flash of Alec’s face above him. But when he hit the pavement, Alec was not following.

He was, instead, catching his breath at Magnus’ side.

Magnus looked between the man and the ladder as though there was a connection he could make to explain Alec beating him to the ground.

“How did you get out?” asked Magnus.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how did you manage to leave the party?”

“I just… walked down the stairs.”

“Without dying? What are you – a superhero?”

“Maybe you’d find it easier if you weren’t wearing stilettos.”

“These are Cuban heels and I could climb Everest in them.”

“Could you walk back down in them?”

Magnus’ laugh caught him off guard, as did the joke itself.

Alec smiled back at him for a split second before looking away very quickly. Magnus could not be certain in the darkness, but it looked almost as if a slight blush was creeping up Alec’s neck.

“Why didn’t you just come down the fire escape?” he asked.

“It didn’t seem that safe,” said Alec. “I thought you might need someone to catch you if you fell.”

“And you ran down to save me? How chivalrous!” cried Magnus. “You really are a superhero.”

“Well, you know, if you die – I die.”

Magnus laughed again and Alec’s smile grew a little wider. Even in the dark of night, the blush on Alec’s neck had grown too pink to be mistaken for anything other than blush.

“So,” said Alec. “Where did you go next?”

“Oh,” said Magnus. He had to think for a moment, so distracted by Alec’s neck that he lost his place in the story. “The park! I was on my way to the park.”

“So we go to the park?”

“We do.”

* * *

 

Magnus took a slight lead, Alec lagging behind. It wasn’t far and Magnus felt this bubbling of excitement from his toes up to his racing heart. Potential. Opportunity. Whatever it was. It was something. It was different.

“Almost there,” said Magnus.

He glanced over his shoulder to give Alec a reassuring smile, but instead he saw that he’d lost Alec a few steps back.

“What’s going on? I thought we were going to the park?” asked Magnus, retracing his own steps until they were face to face.

They were a block away now. Just one more street to walk until the journey was done.

“I’m sorry,” said Alec. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“What do you mean?”

Alec gave a sheepish shrug and all giddiness soured into frustration.

“I’m sorry, do you not want to figure this out?” snapped Magnus, “The way you’re acting – it’s like you don’t want to put an end to the loop. It’s like you’re enjoying it.”

“I’m not enjoying it! I hate it!” cried Alec. “You wouldn’t understand - you get to relive this awesome party filled with all those super cool people you don’t even seem to like. I have to relive the worst night of my life.”

After a beat, Magnus said, “You know. You could have come to that party.”

Alec had that pained look about him again and he clasped his own hands together until no air could pass between them.

“Your theory was that we’re being punished,” said Magnus.

“It still is.”

“Do you think you’re being punished because of who you are?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think that you’d deserve to be punished for it?”

“I don’t know.”

His fingers went stark white in their tangled mess and Magnus felt compelled to reach out and hold those hands in his own, to stroke them, to place kisses to the skin. It wouldn’t heal the root of the problem. He could not soothe the man’s mind. If anything it might make it worse.

“Before all of this. Did you think there was something wrong with you?”

Alec laughed, “I knew there was something wrong with me.”

“Because you were gay?”

He shook his head.

Magnus tried to put together the pieces of the man before him. But he did not know if that was even a possibility. It seemed like Alec was firmly settled on keeping the most integral pieces of himself separated.

Magnus looked down at Alec’s hands; bloodless and bulky.

“Do you realise you’re doing that?”

“Doing what?”

Magnus nodded down and Alec followed his gaze.

“Oh,” he breathed, tearing his hands apart. “Sorry. I do that sometimes. I don’t know why.”

Magnus felt his own heart break a little. He leaned forwards to give a light tap to one of Alec’s hands. Alec did not flinch exactly, but Magnus could have sworn there was a shiver. Perhaps it was an unexpected gesture. Perhaps it was the fear of being seen.

“You’re making it hurt here,” said Magnus softly. He moved his hand as close to Alec’s temple as possible without actually touching him, “To distract from how much it hurts up here.”

“It’s not about how I feel,” said Alec, exhaling a little. “It’s about how sometimes… recently especially, I’ve been considering making that a priority. My mom gave me the ring for Lydia over a year ago. A year. I wanted to want to give it to her, but I just couldn’t. I spent so much money getting it resized and resized by the tiniest increments. God, they must had thought I was insane at that jewellery store.”

“A perfectionist perhaps,” said Magnus.

Alec gave a hollow laugh.

“I know Lydia wasn’t happy. I knew it then. I just didn’t want to hear it. It’s hard. I wanted to keep everything…”

“Perfect?”

“I guess so. Yeah. But it was selfish of me. I shouldn’t have dragged Lydia down with me. It’s my family. It’s my responsibility.”

“I don’t know that that’s the right take away from all of this.”

“I don’t even know that I believe in God,” admitted Alec, smiling weakly. “Don’t tell my mom.”

“Cross my heart,” said Magnus before drawing an invisible crucifix across his heart with an exaggerated flourish.

Alec’s smile grew a little stronger and, with tears glistening in his hazel eyes, said, “I don’t know what to do if this ends. After it. How to move forwards with my life.”

“Well, for starters we need to get you into therapy.”

“No. No, I don’t do therapy.”

Of course Magnus had heard people dismiss therapy before, had heard people be wary or simply unsure. But this was different. There was a fraction of panic to the certainty he spoke with. It was the same way that Magnus heard himself say, “No. No, I don’t do church.”

He did not press it.

Perhaps it was his silence on the matter that made Alec look back at him with wide, pleading eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t believe in it or anything.”

“It’s fine.”

“I just… don’t think it’s right for me.”

“You don’t need to explain.”

“People usually want to know why. Or they tell me to go anyway.”

“Oh, you should definitely go. You’re in desperate need of it. But you don’t need to give me your reasons. We all have our fears.”

“I’m not afraid of it.”

“I’m afraid of churches. Religion in general. Mainly Catholicism.”

Alec’s eyes flickered to the crucifix around Magnus’ neck.

“It’s complicated,” said Magnus, answering the unspoken question. “It usually is. But I’m not going to tell you about it. So I don’t expect you to tell me.”

“Nothing bad happened to me,” said Alec quickly. “I don’t want you to think-”

“I know better than to assume.”

“I just-”

“Alexander,” said Magnus, trying to sound both firm and calming, realising he sounded a lot like Caterina. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

But the words seemed to roll off of Alec’s back. There was something desperate about him, this insatiable desire to be fixing something even when nothing was broken.

How was he not exhausted?

He had only ever confided in two people about the history of his crucifix. Camille had pushed and taunted him until he felt as though he needed to defend his choices. The taunting had not stopped afterwards. Caterina asked him, every so often, if he was ready to take it off.

“No,” he laughed, pushing away her concern as quickly as he could, “This is my cross to bear.”

“This was my mom’s,” Magnus forced a smile and a swallow before pressing on, “It was the last thing she ever gave to me. I don’t take it off. Not ever. I tried once and it was like I couldn’t breathe.”

“It’s sentimental.”

“I suppose.”

“But that’s not the whole story?”

“No.”

“I went to therapy after my dad left. Didn’t have the best experience,” said Alec.

Magnus gave him a small smile which he, heart-achingly, returned. It was almost enough to tempt him to tell every detail of his own story. But his tongue was so big and heavy. He could not twist it towards honesty without choking.

“Okay, then,” said Magnus softly. “Okay.”

“So… the park?”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m definitely not sure. But let’s do it anyway.”

“Okay.”

They walked together, side-by-side, arms almost brushing. At the crossing, Alec made to keep walking, but Magnus put his arm out.

“What?” he asked.

“I didn’t cross the road,” said Magnus. “I mean, I didn’t make it all the way. My night ended here.”

“Oh.”

Magnus stared ahead for a moment, then glanced around for cars. It was quiet. Nothing seemed amiss.

“We’ve got to be missing something,” he said.

He turned and gave Alec a desperate look. Then he remembered.

“I saw you,” he breathed.

“What? Where?”

“In the store. I saw you. You’d collapsed and Izzy was hanging over you.”

“I collapsed?”

“I think so.”

Alec’s entire being shifted and in a broken, strained whisper, he asked, “And Izzy was there? Did she see me die?”

The intent behind the tears told Magnus he was not looking for a kind lie.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I didn’t go in. I was crossing the road.”

Alec nodded solemnly.

“It doesn’t matter though,” he added quickly. “Nobody remembers it except us.”

“Maybe,” said Alec. “Maybe not. You said this was like my purgatory. What if that was right? What if this is purgatory. What if we did die for good and we’re stuck reliving that night until the powers that be figure out where to put us? You said you died here. That was me dying in there. Right in front of my sister.”

“It probably was,” said Magnus softly. “It probably was your first death. But, and I don’t want to shoot down another one of your theories, but if this were purgatory, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. If there’s a hell I’m going straight there.”

Alec did not laugh. He did not react to Magnus at all. What Alec did do was take off in the other direction and burst into the corner store. Magnus followed as closely as possible.

There stood Alec, frozen.

“Alexander,” breathed Magnus, “Alec, what’s wrong?”

He followed his fixed gaze to the bottle of pain pills. Right beside that shelf of tins Magnus had seen knocked to the floor.

“Oh,” he said softly, understanding. “Alexander. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, Magnus. I killed myself!”

The shopkeeper looked up from his magazine with shock-rimmed eyes.

“You were right. It was my fault,” said Alec. “Because I was dying on the floor. I was dying, I remember, and Izzy tried to help me up, but I just grabbed another bottle and swallowed as many as I could.”

“No. No, Alexander, this is not your fault,” said Magnus firmly.

“It is. I made the choice, twice, to die.”

Magnus shook his head emphatically, trying desperately to make Alec understand. Because it was his fault, not Alec’s. He saw the commotion and turned the other cheek. He allowed it to happen because of his own self-absorbed fears.

“I should have helped you,” he said finally.

“I don’t think I would have let you.”

“I could have tried. I saw you. I was there. But I decided to walk away and that is why I got hit by that car. My God, I didn’t even look where I was going.”

“But that’s my fault as well! I chose to die and that brought you down with me.”

“No, angel, listen to me,” said Magnus, reaching out, holding Alec by the shoulders, rubbing gentle thumbs in what he hoped were comforting circles. “Why would that have brought me into the loop, eh? There’s got to be more to it.”

Alec had begun to cry and Magnus’ heart split. But neither pulled away. Magnus could have almost sworn Alec pressed a little into the touch, that he relaxed beneath it. He did not know if it was his mind playing tricks on his heart. What he did know was that he would do whatever it took to fix this for Alec.

  
  


 

 


	4. Marionette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got a little carried away writing this chapter but I'm pretty happy with the result. This chapter features a few panic attacks, focuses on toxic family relationships and homophobia.

He was aware, suddenly, of Magnus’ touch. It was a welcome distraction. Which surprised him. The flirting was one thing. And a touch of that kind might have sent him reeling even further. But it was not that kind of touch. It was gentle. It felt innocent. And when he met Magnus’ eye, the sweet concern he saw there told him it was so.

He relaxed. Just a little.

He breathed as best he could.

He needed to see his sister.

“Everything alright?” asked the clerk.

He remembered that tone, that voice. Echoing in that same floodlit store.

“Let me take you home,” said Magnus.

All soft. All innocence.

“I need to see Izzy,” he breathed.

“Okay! We can do that,” said Magnus, nodding emphatically and squeezing blissfully tighter. “Shall we call her? Ask her to come to yours?”

Alec shook his head.

He did not want to inconvenience her. But, God, he couldn’t go back to that party. With all those people. He could not even handle the heat of the clerk’s stare.

“Let’s get you outside at least,” said Magnus. “Get you some air.”

After a few terrible minutes of gulping at fresh air, Alec gave a small nod and said, “Okay, let’s go.”

Magnus kept glancing over his shoulder as Alec fell behind every now and then. No doubt afraid he was going to stop dead in another panic.

“Wait,” said Alec suddenly, doing just that.

“Okay.”

“What if I was right?”

Alec hadn’t wanted to be more of an inconvenience but the fact of what they were doing had just settled in.

“About what?” asked Magnus, looking a little panicked.

“About the deaths staying with people. What if everyone else keeps living this night in all the different versions of it?”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“What if the Izzy from the first night saw me die and she’s just going on living with that. I can’t have that happen again.”

Magnus gave him a long, hard, sorry look.

“You think I’m crazy?” said Alec.

“I’ve been told not to say that word.”

“But you were thinking it.”

“No. I was thinking how nice it is… that you love them so much. Your family, I mean. Even if it makes you act just a little bit crazy.”

Alec looked at him curiously and said, “I thought you didn’t say that word.”

“I know, but it’s so much fun breaking the rules every now and then.”

Magnus smiled at him with just the slightest twitch in the corner of his lips, his nose, and his eyebrow. The fog that sat heavy on Alec thinned to a mist. He felt himself give a small smile in return.

“Is it crazy if I want to just go home? And to sleep?”

“Not at all. We might die before we get you there but if that happens we’ll just try again.”

Alec had not meant for Magnus to join him. Although he hadn’t offered to stay. Just to get him there. He considered for a moment asking to make the journey alone. The thought ripped at his gut. It was pathetic, he knew. He felt the appropriate amount of shame as he allowed Magnus to walk him home.

Magnus did not say much, but he did keep glancing at Alec with gentle concern. It did not feel gentle, though. It scorched him.

“I’m fine,” said Alec instinctively. “I mean, I’m not going to run into traffic or anything. Sorry,” he added with a wince. “There were probably better ways to phrase that.”

“Running into traffic seemed like a good idea last night.”

“Or tonight.”

“Let’s just call it last night to save confusion.”

“So I could see your party tonight.”

“Maybe a mistake.”

“No,” said Alec firmly. “No. At least now we know a little bit more.”

“And you’re alright with that? Getting closer to cracking it?”

He didn’t know if he was alright with it. But he wanted to be. He wanted to want to move past that night. Because if he didn’t want that. If he didn’t want to live past that night then he might as well be dying on the floor of that corner store.

So that was it. It was settled. And Alec could no longer breathe.

It took him an unbearably long time of fumbling with prickling fingers in his coat pockets before he retrieved his key. Magnus held out an open palm which Alec gratefully dropped the key onto.

The journey from street to sofa was a blur, pinned to reality only by Magnus’ gentle tugging on is elbow.

“This is stupid. I feel so stupid,” he managed to stammer out through uneven breaths.

A glass of water appeared before him and he chugged the entire thing in one go. Once he was finished he slammed it down and Magnus went about fixing him another.

“This is good. I mean, it should be good. I’m alive. At least, I might be. So it’s fine. It will be fine. And I can fix it. I can.”

Alec fumbled reaching out for the refilled glass and accidentally knocked it over. Both he and Magnus reached to stop the spilling, almost touching. But before they could save it, the water had rushed towards the nearby plug socket.

A crackling spark spat at them and they both jumped back.

After a moment, Alec said, “We didn’t die.”

“No.”

“Should we have?”

“I’m not sure,” said Magnus with an amused smile.

“Did we fix it?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do we do?”

“Well, let’s try not to test it. We might not bounce back so easily this time.”

Before Alec could agree, the ceiling collapsed and he was staring at his own reflection.

There was not time to keep talking everything through with Lydia. There was not enough courage in the world to sit through it time and time again.

He simply tossed her his card and told her there was an emergency. Which was not entirely untrue.

* * *

 

He was halfway to Magnus’ party before he realised he could not step foot there. Not with Izzy there. He made a mental note to memorise Magnus’ number.

“Alexander!”

Alec looked and there he was, all coiffed and perfect hurrying down the street towards him.

“Hi,” he breathed.

“Hi,” said Magnus.

“We need to decide on a place to meet.”

“Is there something wrong with this place?” he asked, looking around with a little too much ostentation for Alec to take it seriously.

“Not if we agree on it.”

“Then let’s agree on it,” said Magnus.

His voice was deep and serious while mischief sparkled in his eye. He held out a hand for Alec to shake. Alec considered the other man’s hand for a second before taking it in his own for a brisk, clinical shake.

It felt dangerous. Like playing with fire. Still, it was hard to back away from the crackling sparks or the burning warmth.

“Alexander,” said Magnus, as though he was about to say something unpleasant.

Alec braced himself.

“You know how you said you wanted to fix the problem?”

Alec nodded.

“Well,” Magnus pressed on, “I think it might help to see my friend Cat.”

“Why would that help?”

“She’s a therapist.”

“No,” said Alec. “Absolutely not.”

“Listen, I get it, okay,” said Magnus.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. If he did ‘get it’ he wouldn’t be suggesting it.

“I’ve always avoiding her trying to counsel me,” he pressed on, “But I think we’ve both run out of time to avoid these kinds of fears.”

“I’m not afraid of therapy,” said Alec defensively. “That would be irrational.”

“Most fears are. Except for my fear of bees. I’m deathly allergic.”

“Really? I’m allergic to bees too?”

“Well now we’re going to run into a swarm of bees aren’t we?”

Alec looked around instinctively and noticed Magnus was doing the same.

“Or not,” said Magnus. “So… Cat’s?”

It wasn’t reasonable to say no without giving an explanation. Not when Magnus so clearly believed it to be a key to escaping. Not when Alec couldn’t help but agree.

“Okay,” he said finally.

Magnus spent the walk over to Cat’s house describing the woman to Alec. Telling the odd anecdote and attempting to comfort Alec with the fact that she was an incredibly kind woman.

Alec was far too busy pushing back painful memories to listen properly.

* * *

 

The journey was far too short for Alec to prepare himself while the wait for Cat to answer the front door was far too long for Alec to keep his composure.

“Magnus!” she cried, throwing her arms around him as soon as she opened the door. “I was just leaving for your party.”

“Oh, screw the party!” said Magnus with a smile. “I wanted to see you.”

It was then that Cat noticed Alec standing awkwardly a few feet away.

“Hello,” she greeted, pulling away from Magnus and holding out a hand. “I’m Caterina Loss.”

“Hi,” said Alec, shaking the offered hand.

“This is Alec,” said Magnus. “He’s here for some tea and conversation. I’ll put the kettle on.”

He darted inside the house before either Alec or Cat could argue.

“Sorry to just drop in,” said Alec, at a loss for what else to say.

“Magnus knows he’s always welcome here. Along with his friends.”

“We just met really.”

Alec didn’t know why he’d said that. It had just felt wrong to leave the assumption hanging between them. Not that Cat would remember this. Or she probably wouldn’t. Maybe. He wished he had even the faintest idea of how this worked. He missed his sister fiercely.

Cat studied him with the eyes of a therapist and Alec felt his palms begin to sweat.

“Does he want me to give you free therapy?” she asked.

But there was more amusement in her tone than irritation.

“Yeah,” said Alec. “Sorry. It wasn’t my idea.”

“Don’t worry, dear,” she said, giving his arm a soft squeeze. “I know what Magnus is like. Come on, let’s get out of the cold.”

He could see why she and Magnus were so close; they were rather similar. Her tender disposition was enough to ease Alec’s concerns somewhat and he didn’t feel such an imposition as he followed her inside.

Magnus set three steaming cups of tea on the table, babbling on about how dull the party was and how much more fun they would all have sharing stories over hot drinks.

“He does this when he’s nervous,” said Cat.

“Makes tea?” asked Alec.

“Doesn’t know when to stop talking.”

Magnus shot Cat a glare and she responded with a wink.

“So, Alec,” she said. “What’s Magnus dragged you here for?”

Suicide sounded too heavy. Attempted suicide was just as heavy and a lot less accurate.

This was the worst part of therapy, he thought, having to say things.

“Aren’t you just going to ask me about my childhood?” said Alec in a poor attempt at humour.

“We could do. If that’s what’s troubling you. I tend to be more interested in people’s present, though. There’s not a lot we can do with the past beyond context.”

Alec looked back into Cat’s expectant eyes and then at Magnus.

“I can’t do this,” he breathed.

Magnus went to speak, but Cat said first, “Fear of therapy?”

Alec gave a tight, conceding nod.

“That’s a hard one. The cure for most fears is therapy so what do you do when the cure is the root of the problem?”

Alec waited for the other shoe to drop. For the kicker.

Cat looked at Alec carefully and said, “Do you know why you’ve got this aversion to therapy?”

“I don’t know,” he lied.

“Fear of the unknown maybe? Or you feel as though it would be giving someone power over you? Caution for the sake of caution. It gives you the illusion of control,” Caterina stopped and turned her attention to Alec. “But there are things you can control. Real things. They might be a lot harder to take control of, but the pay-off is also so much better. That little sigh of relief you get from routine and regulation is nothing compared to the euphoria of taking a leap.”

“Until you crash and fall,” he muttered.

“You can crash and fall standing still. You can crash and fall walking carefully. What you can’t do still or carefully is grab life by the horns and take it for a ride.”

“I suppose.”

“We don’t have to talk right now, Alec,” she said. “No matter what Magnus says. But we can arrange to meet in a week or so and work through this slowly.”

“What if we die tonight?” asked Magnus casually from the corner of the table.

“You brought him here to talk to me,” she snapped back at him. “Hold your tongue.”

“It’s my birthday don’t forget.”

Cat rolled her eyes back towards Alec.

“Ignore him. We’ll arrange a private meeting and then you can tell me what’s worrying you.”

* * *

 

Alec did not know if there was a moment when he had realised he did not simply exist. His life had purpose. It was nice to know what his body was for, even before he truly understood it. All he was made of, all he was capable of would be given freely to the family.

It was simple. Logical. Placing a brick on a brick on a brick.

Study hard. Break the nose of anyone who hurt Izzy. Do the dishes. Hold Max while he cried through the shouts of his parents.

Simple.

Not easy. But the hard work was a certain kind of freedom. He didn’t have to think. He didn’t have to decide.

Mother pulled a string. Father pulled another.

Step after step.

If it had not been for one particular hurdle it might have stayed simple forever.

Alec knew the moment when he had realised his father was not a good man. He was nine years old, baby on his chest, Izzy breaking toys for attention, watching his father hurl insults at the woman who’d birthed them.

His leaving was a lift of a burden rather than the placing of one. It was far simpler now to obey just a single tug. It was far easier to look after his family without getting under his father’s feet.

His mother had not seen it that way, however. Izzy and Alec had both been promptly sent to the school therapist so that they could talk through the trauma they had acquired from the divorce.

So he talked through it.

After all, that was what was expected. His mother expected it and Diane, legs crossed and soft smiled in the chair opposite, certainly expected it.

“How have things been since we spoke last?” she’d ask.

“Good,” he’d say, usually honestly.

He was forthright about his feelings towards his father running off with a younger woman. Though Diane did not seem to believe all was as well as Alec said.

Her eyes were begging for an offering of pain and so, after a few months of the same, he shelled out his first donation.

“I suppose I’m worried about Izzy,” he said. “She was the closest to Dad.”

“Interesting,” said Diane, leaning forwards.

And it went on like that with Alec learning to give just a little of himself to someone outside his family.

For almost three years he spoke to Diane while she listened.

It was his mistake, really, for getting too comfortable in her office, for offering up a part of himself that should never have seen the light of day.

“You seem a little more tense recently,” said Diane. “Is something worrying you?”

He stared right back at her, hoping to see something, anything that might indicate how she would react. There were no clues.

He tried to concentrate on his breathing as he reminded himself that this was a private room, a private conversation. Nothing he said here had to leave it. Not if he didn’t want it to.

His voice was small as he said, “I think I might be gay.”

Diane’s eyes almost popped out of her head.

It was a grand headache to undo the damage he’d done in that room. Session after session became a trial in proving he had realised his mistake, he knew he wasn’t gay, he was just reeling, still, from the loss of his father.

Eventually Diane let it go and Alec was free to never see her again. He would, however, see pamphlets for ‘Pray Away the Gay’ camps in his nightmares well into adulthood. At least his mother never had to be told. That was his one solace. And she never would be if he had any say in it.

* * *

 

His body was all pins and needles once more, sharper than the stares of Cat and Magnus boring into him with concern.

He was having another panic attack, wasn’t he? Was that all he was capable of anymore?

“Sorry,” he stammered.

Magnus mumbled something unintelligible to Cat before leading Alec onto the street by his elbow.

The cold air awakened his senses somewhat and just as he was wishing he’d asked for a glass of water before leaving, Magnus was holding one out before him.

“I thought you might need to get out of there,” he said. “But Cat’s happy to cook for us if you’re okay to go back in. And it’s completely safe. I checked the gas and everything.”

Alec shook his head and sipped at the water.

The world moved slower than usual and even as he drank, swallowing water, he felt as though his entire head was pounding beneath a crashing ocean.

He had no idea what Magnus meant with his gas comment.

“I’m sorry,” said Magnus. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“No,” said Alec. “No, it was my fault. I should have explained. It’s stupid anyway. I’m being stupid.”

“Alexander, I’m sure it’s not stupid in the slightest.”

Alec squeezed his eyes closed for a second to combat the threat of tears. It was stupid. It was a stupid reason to be behaving this way. But it was less stupid with the context than it was without.

So Alec put his rotten experience on display and let Magnus judge it.

When his story had finished, Magnus said, “Oh, angel.”

“I know it’s stupid but it felt like I was back there.”

“It’s not stupid at all. It’s actually very rational.”

“It’s not. I know I’m an adult, but in that house… I felt like a trapped child again.” A distant buzzing distracted him for a moment. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

The buzzing grew louder and they turned their heads to see a swarm of fat, furry insects heading straight for them.

“Of course,” said Magnus, with a heavy eye-roll.

Alec looked up at his own reflection. There was a ghost of a laugh. A tightening of the lips. A deep breath. A soldier’s march into the line of fire.

* * *

 

Lydia first. Then Magnus.

Alec kept an eye out for that shop-front he’d met Magnus before last time. It followed logically that with the same obstacles between them, leaving from the same places at the exact same time would lead to the same occurrence. He would not see Magnus until his boot met that particular patch of pavement.

But it did not follow.

A few blocks ahead of schedule, Magnus was running down the street towards him.

Alec stood frozen.

“Hi,” said Magnus, breathless upon arrival. “Are you okay?”

“Are you? Did you run here?”

Magnus held up a finger on one hand while he rested the other on his hip, wheezing slightly.

Once Magnus seemed to have collected himself, Alec asked again, “Did you run?”

“Well, I didn’t want you to be alone,” said Magnus.

Alec didn’t quite know what to do with that sentiment. He let it warm his heart for a moment before suggesting they go back to his place so they might be safe from any more wild animal attacks.

“As long as you have something to drink,” replied Magnus.

“I think I have a bottle of wine somewhere.”

By the time they were inside, Magnus had regained complete composure.

Alec realised then that Magnus had never before lost his composure before Alec. Not when joking or falling or even dying. The most vulnerable he had ever been was running ragged towards Alec down the streets of New York.

Which was far too terrifying to think about let alone analyse. So he did what he did best and repressed it.

He focused instead on finding him the one bottle of wine in his entire apartment.

“I don’t remember if it’s white or red,” said Alec rummaging.

“I’d take a bottle of sherry at this point.”

Alec didn’t know what sherry actually was but it sounded bad by the tone of Magnus’ voice.

“Aha!” cried Alec, pulling the dusty old bottle out from behind the boxes of bran. “Found it.”

Magnus gratefully accepted it and, after pulling out the cork with his teeth, began to drink deeply. Alec had been in the process of fetching a glass but it seemed that was now redundant.

“Hey,” said Magnus, swallowing and lowering the wine for a moment.

Alec looked at him, brow lightly furrowed in wait.

“I’m sorry. I said I knew what it was like to be you. But I was wrong.”

“It’s okay.”

Magnus shrugged as though unconvinced.

Then, after taking a large swig, he said, “You know. I’m probably the furthest thing from a therapist you can get.”

“Really? You’ve been trying to be my therapist since we met.”

Magnus had been in the process of going to take another swig when Alec’s comment caught him off guard and he laughed instead.

“Well, I’m not good at it,” said Magnus. “I’ve just made things worse in the… how long ago was it we met?”

Alec went to count quickly in his head. He had stopped keeping track of each death, but it didn’t take long to recall.

Then it was considering the length of each loop.

“Let’s call it a week,” said Magnus.

It wasn’t a week. Not exactly. It seemed unlikely anyway.

Magnus didn’t seem to care, saying, “I’ve mostly just fucked up with you.”

“Sounds like a therapist to me,” teased Alec.

Magnus almost laughed again, but took a deep swig instead.

“Maybe this will help,” he said, lowering the bottle.

The air hung tightly. Alec held his breath.

Magnus said, “I have my own complicated relationship with the church. My mom was very religious and it’s left me with more irrational beliefs than I can count.”

Alec leaned forwards a little, not wanting to miss a word of what Magnus was saying.

“I’m a rational person,” he continued “I’d like to think so anyway. But I can’t talk myself out of this particularly irrationality. I don’t believe in God. I mean, I wouldn’t place a lot of money on that, but I’m sure enough that I feel okay sinning regularly. I definitely don’t believe in demons. Not even a little. I know that what we treat as supernatural is usually natural. I know that I’m sick in the head not the soul, if such a thing even exists. I know all of this. And yet.”

“I don’t believe in God. It doesn’t make sense to me. Logically. And yet.”

“And yet there’s no shaking that feeling that there’s something evil about you. Something you have to atone for, forever, even if there’s no chance at actually redeeming yourself.”

“Yeah,” laughed Alec. “Yeah. That’s exactly it.”

“It’s fucked up, right? We punish ourselves for the illogical.”

“Did you have the same problem when you realised you were bi?”

“Oh, God, that was the least of my problems. Although I didn’t have any parents to disappoint with it.”

Alec could not figure Magnus out from the scraps of information he offered. He did not think himself the sort of person who pried into other’s personal business. And yet.

“Who raised you?” he asked softly.

“After my mom died?” said Magnus. “My aunt and her husband. They were okay. They’re still okay. They send me a card every year on my birthday. It’s probably my fault we aren’t closer. But they were determined I was going to be Ivy League and successful.”

“And were you?”

“I was NYU.”

“Me too.”

“Really? What year did you graduate?”

“2009.”

“2005. We must have just missed each other.”

“Must have,” said Alec. “Seems like a trend.”

They smiled in silence for a moment. Alec wanted to know more but he’d already pushed enough for the night. He wasn’t particularly good at these sorts of conversations. He never knew what was too much and so decided to bite his tongue.

Magnus, however, did not seem to have the same qualms.

“So, have you ever seriously thought about coming out?” he asked, hitting Alec hard and fast with his words.

Alec blinked and stumbled over how to answer the question. Izzy had pleaded with him to come out a few times. Lydia had asked him if he was sure he was happy keeping up the lie. But those were easily beaten back with comfort and dismissal.

The answer wasn’t a simple no. Of course he had considered it. Of course he had imagined every single scenario that might follow. Being cast out. Losing his family. Disappointing his mother. Causing problems in his mother’s career. His mother in tears. His mother wiping away his tears. His mother holding him in her arms and whispering in his ear that everything would be okay.

“Sorry,” said Magnus, seizing upon Alec’s silence, “You don’t have to answer.”

“Of course I’ve thought about it,” he said quickly. “I think about it every day of my life.”

“But you won’t?”

“I can’t.”

“You could. Of course you could.”

Alec gave Magnus a pained smile in the space where he should have given words. It was all he could muster.

“I just mean,” continued Magnus, “If you want to. There’s no rule saying you can’t. It’s just… well, doesn’t it hurt? To keep this up? To live your life according to what other people expect from you?”

Alec said, “It hurts. Of course it hurts. But it hurts like… like a knife in the chest. It’s awful and constant and,” he feels salt sting his eyes and tries to blink them away as quickly as possible. He had never before gotten so close to the truth, in word or thought. Not consciously at least. “And sometimes it’s like I can’t breathe.” He felt close to breathless now. There was a tightening in his chest and it was as though the knife had been twisted. “But if I take out the knife.”

Alec choked on the last words.

“There’s the danger of bleeding out,” said Magnus softly.

Alec looked back at Magnus with tear-blurred eyes. Magnus met his gaze with no judgement, just kindness.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah. Exactly,” then with a laugh he couldn’t help but add, “Maybe you do know what it’s like to be me.”

“Just a little bit maybe,” said Magnus with a smile. “But that’s enough of the therapy for the time being. You know what else is a great treatment? Relaxing.”

Alec tensed.

“No,” said Magnus, wagging a finger at Alec’s raised shoulders, “The opposite of that. Come on, don’t you do anything for fun?”

Alec considered it for a moment. He didn’t find his routine boring, but none of it was fun. It wasn’t supposed to be. His schedule was designed for success not enjoyment.

“I usually go to the gym after work.”

“Every day?”

“Most days.”

“Work, exercise, and then sleep? That’s it?”

Alec did not appreciate the judgment in Magnus’ tone.

“Well,” he continued, “Congratulations, Alexander, you’ve designed the perfect life for sexual repression.”

“I guess,” said Alec, blushing furiously, “I guess I like video games.”

And he did like video games. When his body was done for the day but his mind was too loud to sleep, it was a good way to pass time without exerting any energy.

“Yeah?” said Magnus.

“Yeah. I’ve played a few.”

“Let me have a look!” cried Magnus, gliding over to the television and sifting through the boxes beside it. “Did you like this one?” he asked, pulling out a black and yellow one.

Alec squinted and recalled the game in question.

“I haven’t actually finished that one,” he admitted. “The final boss is impossible.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“You’ve played it?”

“I designed it.”

That took Alec aback. He felt the irritating blush return to his neck.

“Oh,” he heard himself stammer, “I didn’t mean – I didn’t not like it.”

Magnus laughed, “It’s fine. I don’t play any of the games I make. But I can promise you there’s a way to beat it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Show me.”

* * *

 

Alec was relieved to discover, upon loading up the game, that he had actually almost completed it. He didn’t think he could deal with the embarrassment of insulting Magnus’ work and then proving to have no even gotten past the first level.

Magnus took the controller and sat, as relaxed as he could, on Alec’s sofa.

He didn’t often have guests. He’d forgotten, he thought taking the seat beside Magnus, how uncomfortable his furniture was.

Alec had fully intended to watch the screen, but there was something utterly entrancing about Magnus’ hands fiddling with the buttons and sticks. They were smooth with long fingers and black nails.

He knew he was blushing again but Magnus’ attention was diverted so he thought, perhaps, it wasn’t the worst thing ever to let his neck go pink.

“Huh,” said Magnus. “This is harder than I remember.”

“I told you,” said Alec, turning his intention to the screen. “It’s impossible.”

“I didn’t say it was impossible. Just hard.”

“Give it time.”

Hours passed without any break in the ceiling above or weighty conversation between.

“Impossible,” said Alec every time Magnus died.

After what must have been twenty attempts, Magnus tossed the controller aside.

“I told you,” said Alec. “It’s not possible. In earlier levels you have that guy who helps you out with all the weights and pulleys. But here, it’s just you. No way to escape.”

“There must be some way to beat it. I mean, I know there is. I just don’t remember what it was.”

Alec shrugged and relaxed a little deeper into the sofa.

“When we get out of this loop,” he said seriously. “I’m buying a new sofa.”

The despondency lifted from Magnus in a second and he gave Alec an amused smile.

“What?” asked Alec.

“It’s nice to hear you making plans for the future. That’s all. Especially one I can get behind.”

Before Alec could reply, a yawn escaped him.

“Sorry,” he said. “I suppose I haven’t slept since… since we met.”

“Go to bed. I’ll make do on this concrete block.”

“No. No, I’ll sleep fine here,” said Alec, letting his eyelids fall and hoping Magnus would buy the lie that he was already asleep.

He heard Magnus shift beside him, but did not hear him get to his feet. Alec considered repeating his insistence that he take the sofa but the chance escaped him along with consciousness.

* * *

 

With the streaming of sunlight and a sharp pain in his neck, Alec awoke in the morning. Bleary eyed, he blinked away the brightness and searched for Magnus. Though there were the signs of him having slept there (flattened pillows and a blanket across the back of the sofa as though tossed aside) he was alone.

Alec didn’t quite know what to do with himself. Magnus had vanished and he had no way of knowing where he was. He doubted he had gone to wait at the meeting point.

So Alec busied himself with tidying and washing. He made a sandwich from whatever he could scrounge from the fridge and had to throw away a couple of pieces of fruit that had gone mouldy.

It was a good two hours before Magnus reappeared.

Cooking and cleaning had only taken so long and so Alec, resigned to the fact that he would not see Magnus until after their next death, had decided to give the impossible level another go.

And another.

He became so focused, in fact, on trying to get the little army man across the fire pit that the knock on his door made him jump in his seat.

Magnus was there with a warm smile and two coffees. He’d changed into an outfit that seemed, to Alec, just as glamorous as the one he’d worn to his party. His makeup was slightly softer, though, and his hair had been coiffed with a little less vigour.

“You’re up!” he greeted.

“And still alive,” said Alec, standing aside to allow Magnus entry.

“Well, I guessed that much,” he said, tapping his own jugular. “Unless my pulse is playing tricks on me.”

“Where did you go?” asked Alec, accepting the coffee that Magnus offered.

“Well we survived through the night. I needed to wash and change. Listen, I had a thought.”

Alec listened as he took a sip and winced at the bitterness.

“Huh,” said Magnus, taking the cup from Alec’s hand and replacing it with the other. “I took a stab in the dark. Thought you’d be a black coffee man.”

Alec tried the new cup and was grateful to taste both milk and sugar.

“Sorry, you were saying you had a thought,” he said.

Magnus made a gesture to suggest that they should sit and so they did.

“I’ve been thinking all morning,” said Magnus, “About what kind of research we could do. Books will disappear the minute we die. And the therapy and church routes were a bit of a disaster.”

“When did you go to church?”

Ignoring this question, Magnus said, “And then, I thought. Why not google it?”

“Google what exactly? What to do if you get trapped in a death loop?”

“Well, I started by familiarising myself with the plot of Groundhog Day.”

“Bill Murray makes Andie MacDowell’s face into an ice sculpture.”

“Which isn’t what I’m suggesting.”

“That was my first thought, though. Not the ice sculpture; doing the day right.”

“You thought you might get out if you did it perfectly?”

“I was too focused on getting it perfect to worry about it getting me out. Maybe that is what I thought. If not a punishment then a sort of… trial.”

“Which it still might be. We just don’t know what exactly it wants from us. We know how we died and we know it happened at the same time. But we’ve gotten through a lot of nights not dying that way. Oh,” said Magnus, half-distracted, “You’re playing my game again.”

“I was trying to.”

“Any luck?”

“Still impossible.”

Magnus made a small irritated noise with the back of his throat and continued, “So, I’ve been trying to look into what sort of trials people usually get in these instances.”

“In… movies?”

“And books and myths. A couple of people who claim to have experienced similar things.”

“You don’t buy it?”

“Their stories are a little far-fetched?”

“And ours aren’t?” asked Alec.

Magnus shrugged in concession.

“So, what did you find out?” said Alec.

And that was when the ceiling collapsed once more.

* * *

 

As they met on the street, Magnus said, “Oh, we have to stop meeting like this.”

It was such a silly thing to say. Alec couldn’t help but laugh.

“So… your place?” he asked. “Pick up where we left off?”

Alec shook his head.

“Mind if we take a walk instead? I’m kind of tired of dying in my own apartment,” he said. “I think I’ve got a ceiling problem.”

So they wandered somewhat aimlessly and continued to talk.

“These accounts,” said Magnus. “True or not all have the same central theme. It’s about learning something. To appreciate what you have, to change the course of your life, that sort of thing.”

“I think I know what I did wrong,” said Alec.

“Well, I’ve learnt to look both ways before crossing the road.”

“Some of us learnt that as children.”

“Well, my mother prioritised other lessons.”

He did not elaborate on that or any other point he had made. In fact, he only spoke up again once they had reached the pier. Magnus stopped and leaned against the railing, gazing out over the river with a wistful face.

“I died here on my second night,” said Magnus thoughtfully, as though recalling a childhood stomping ground.

Alec stared at Magnus and asked, “Shouldn’t we be avoiding it then?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it matters where we go. The universe decides we die when we die.”

“Maybe. But some places seem more deadly than others.”

“Like the stairs at your sister’s apartment?”

“Exactly.”

“I wish the universe would ease up a little. I can’t figure out what it’s trying to prove to us when I’m stopping to wash my hands in that goddamn bathroom every five minutes.”

“Maybe it’s trying to teach us to always wash our hands.”

Magnus let out a snort of a laugh and Alec tried not to beam with pride.

Less than a day’s worth of hours had passed since Alec’s last break down, since his head had gone light with terror and utter ache. Now his head felt light in another way. A lift of a weight.

“You know what’s weird?” said Alec, leaning over the edge of the bridge just a little.

“Other than this whole situation?”

“My head has never been clearer than it is right now. When I found out… how I died, it shook me. But if there is a way out of this – it’s like I’ve got a second chance. There’s so much I need to change. So many things I need to do.”

“Is that so? You won’t use it to try and perfect that proposal?”

“No. God, no,” said Alec, retrieving the ring box that had not left his person for weeks now. “I can’t do that to Lydia.”

He considered the box in his hands. He fiddled with the clasp; open and close. The ring shone obnoxiously back at him. An urge to throw the thing into the river below came over him. So strong was the urge, in fact, that he considered following through with it.

Until Magnus’ voice broke through his trance.

“And what will you tell your mother?” he asked.

“People break up all the time. It doesn’t mean anyone’s gay,” said Alec firmly, pocketing the box.

He could tell Magnus was a little disappointed in his answer. But he was not living to please Magnus. The truth was he was still in two minds about what to tell his mother. He knew, though, if he seemed to sway on the subject Magnus would try to encourage him out of the closet.

He’d known for a long time that if he was ever to change his mind, to come out, he’d do it completely or not at all.

“What about you?” asked Alec, tired of talking about himself.

“Sorry?”

“We’ve done a lot of talking about me? What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Well, we’ve spoken a lot about my death and my trials. Why do you think you’re trapped with me?”

“I don’t know,” said Magnus, but Alec didn’t buy it. “I guess the universe probably wants me to be less of an asshole. Learn how to take care of other people.”

“Really? Taking care of me seems to come pretty naturally to you.”

Magnus shook his head, took a breath, and said, “I’m just not built to bend for others. I think that’s why I stayed with Camille for so long. She’d berate me and scold me until I did what she wanted. She worked against my instincts.”

“You’re saying she made you better?” asked Alec, unable to hide the bitter incredulity he felt at the idea.

Magnus shrugged as though uncertain either way. As though he wanted to shuck the question from his shoulders.

It was funny, thought Alec, how Magnus described himself. It was as though he was talking about someone else entirely.

His heart ached at the pain in Magnus’ voice and he wanted to tell him he was so very wrong. That in the short time they had known each other Magnus had never fallen short of caring. Had gone above and beyond anyone and anything.

But Magnus was not in the mood for listening to such things. And Alec barely knew him. What good was his word?

Alec felt prickling panic cascade like a line of dominos down his spine. He shivered without meaning to.

He wondered what Magnus would do if Alec ran away from this problem. He wondered what Magnus would do if Alec stroked his cheek. He wondered what he would do if the loop ever ended. He swayed just a little further astray from his firm stance.

Alec reached out slowly, almost invisibly, to brush the edges of their hands together.

Just to test it.

To revel in the anticipation of the moment before they touched. To feel the spark he was certain he would feel when skin met skin.

Before their hands met, however, there was a surge of something stronger. The specks of water under palm and foot crackled with electricity and they shared a look of both irritation and panic as death took them once more.

Alec pulled his hands back sharply from the bathroom sink.

Shocked. Strained. Snapped.

He stared down at his own hands and saw them for the first time as flesh and blood. Not wood and string.

Something else felt different.

Another lift of a weight.

He scrambled in his jacket and pulled out the little box. He snapped it open. Empty.

Such great fear flooded his body. And such great relief beat back against it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please comment if you liked it <3


	5. Egli-Figuren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> special tws: references to suicide, child abuse, mental illness

Magnus looked up at his reflection and noticed a slight blush. He had not expected to feel giddy at all during this ordeal, but he also hadn’t expected to see Alec’s hand inching towards his own. He was so distracted by the memory of their almost-touch that he forgot himself entirely until the banging on the door resumed.

“Sweet Birthday Baby!” cried Clary.

“Biscuit!” he replied warmly, grabbing his jacket. “Amazing party, but I have to be off.”

Clary threw protests and questions at his retreating back. He’d grown rather skilled at slipping out of the window, however, and so he was halfway down the fire escape before she got into the really brutal curse words.

Alec was waiting for him. Their eyes met while they was still some distance between them and Magnus gave him a wide smile that was not returned with much gusto. Ah, thought Magnus, back to that.

“What’s the matter?” he asked Alec.

“Nothing,” he said, very quickly. “Shall we get to work then?”

They walked with a solid six feet between them and all the while Magnus watched Alec’s hands fumble at his side. Neither made any move to reach out. Magnus resigned himself to work.

Alexander Lightwood’s affection was a pendulum. Magnus knew this. He knew that if he pushed too far, Alec would swing back further than ever.

So he prodded instead.

Inch, by inch, stupidly hoping for something, anything.

“Hey, come look at this,” said Alec, gesturing Magnus over to his computer.

Night after night of research had led them down literal and figurative dead ends. But Alec’s sudden excitement inspired hope. On two counts.

He leaned over Alec’s shoulder and Alec not only allowed it but shot Magnus a small, slightly embarrassed smile.

“What have you found?”

“I’ve found an article about two people who were trapped in a death loop together.”

“Really? What does it say?”

“I don’t know! I’ve just found it.”

Alec scrolled slowly through the article and they read it together. Magnus was thankful that Alec didn’t read quite as quickly as Magnus did, because he himself kept getting distracted by their proximity.

Five minutes passed and Alec let out a deep groan.

“What?” asked Magnus, trying to quickly take in the final paragraph.

“They were diagnosed as likely having folie à deux.”

“Ah.”

“So it’s crap,” said Alec. “I should have known. It’s from an online version of one of those magazines you get at the dentist.”

“Just wanted an excused to get me close?” teased Magnus.

Alec tensed up and Magnus added it to the growing list of hints that the man wasn’t interested. He wanted a sign one way or the other. Because just when he thought nothing would ever happen, he caught Alec staring at him with pink cheeks before averting a bashful gaze.

It didn’t make the cycle of death any less a priority, but a small part of his mind found itself occupied with a desire to simply be grabbed and kissed by Alec rather than a desire to escape the existential spiral they were both trapped in.

He thought he’d learnt his lesson; never cast aside the world for a chance to be loved. Camille had taught him that every day. It would be smart to withdraw completely. But, good God, Alec was handsome. He saw himself placing every hope on Alec’s swinging affection and knew it was just as hopeless to shut down his own feelings as it was to expect them to be returned in equal force.

“It’s useless. There’s nothing that can help us with this," sighed Alec.

“We have time. I know it’s not ideal but we’ll figure it out.”

Alec did not relax at Magnus’ words. A part of him wanted to place a soft hand on his shoulder. He swallowed the urge and forced himself to walk away.

“Unless,” said Alec.

Magnus paused, halfway to his own seat, hovering, suspended.

“Unless it is a shared delusion,” Alec finished.

“It’s a pretty big delusion. And that sort of thing… I mean, doesn’t it take years to build up? We’ve only known each other a short while.”

“Unless that’s part of the delusion.”

“Big leap.”

“Yeah.”

“I’d rather keep looking for another explanation.”

Alec put on a brave smile and went back to tapping away. Magnus watched him for a moment, watched him blink back exhaustion, watched his back stiffen.

“Maybe we should take a break,” he heard himself say.

“No."

“We’ll work better with some rest. Besides, it’s not like we don’t have time. It doesn’t seem these loops are going to end by themselves.”

Alec swallowed so hard that Magnus saw his Adam’s apple quiver.

“What?” asked Magnus.

“Nothing.”

“You’re nervous. What’s wrong?”

Alec swallowed hard again and said, “I need to tell you something. You know the ring – my family ring?”

“I’m vaguely familiar with the thing.”

“It’s gone.”

“Gone? Gone where?”

“I don’t know. I just… after we died on the bridge it was gone.”

“And it hasn’t come back?”

“No.”

“Huh.”

Magnus grabbed, heavy-handed, for his crucifix and breathed easy when he felt it’s hard edges dig into his palm.

“So it’s not an infinite loop,” said Magnus. “That’s good news.”

“Is it?”

“I have no idea.”

Alec laughed nervously.

“Maybe it means we’re getting closer to the solution,” said Magnus. His eye caught Alec’s bowl of fruit which had not been rotting last time he’d checked. “Or closer to dying for good.”

“I don’t know which is worse.”

“Sorry?”

“I don’t mean that. I don’t want to die. I just don’t want…”

“To have lost your family ring?”

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not. I get it,” said Magnus, gesturing to the crucifix on his chest. “Believe me.”

Alec almost smiled. Almost.

“It’s just,” he continued, “I think it’s my fault the ring’s gone. I had a moment of doubt and now…”

Magnus was teetering on the edge of desperation. He needed to know what Alec meant, what his doubts were and if it was simply a coincidence that the doubting happened alongside Alec’s hand inching towards his own.

“Come on,” said Magnus, with herculean strength, leading the way towards the sofa and television set. “We’re going to take a break. It’ll do us good.”

“We can’t.”

“We can and we should.”

It was clear Alec did not believe him, but Magnus was already loading up the game’s console.

With a smile, Magnus tossed Alec the controller and said, “Clear minds work better. Let’s get numb.”

The game was no easier on high levels of stress and low levels of sleep, but they found themselves caring less. The game was inconsequential. It was about taking turns, pressing buttons, and stifling yawns.

“It’s impossible,” said Alec, as though the matter was settled. As though they’d given it their best and final shot.

“It’s not impossible,” said Magnus. “There’s a solution – I just don’t remember what it is.”

“We could just take a page out of our own books and just google it.”

“Spoils the fun.”

“It’s not fun anymore. It hasn’t been fun for a while.”

“Are we being metaphorical right now?”

“About what? The loops? They’ve never been fun.”

“I don’t know. It’s not been all bad. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you,” said Magnus, lowering both the tone and volume of his voice.

Alec’s neck turned a furious red as he pulled out his phone and searched for the solution.

“It says here that it’s a common glitch,” he said, staring firmly down. “You’re supposed to have the helper from earlier levels.”

“Oh my God,” breathed Magnus. “I’m an idiot.”

“What?”

Magnus jumped up and ran towards the kitchen, grabbing a rotten orange from the bowl on display.

“What are you doing?” asked Alec.

“It’s a glitch.”

“What is?”

“This. What we’re experiencing. It’s a glitch.”

Alec meandered over slowly, confusion on every inch of his pretty face.

Magnus kept going, as quickly as he could, overwhelmed with his own stupidity and genius in equal measures.

“Okay,” he said, “What happens when there’s a glitch in a programme? It crashes. And if you reload it without fixing the glitch then it’ll keep crashing. If our deaths are a system crash then the only way to stop it is to fix the glitch.” Magnus reached for a large knife and held both it and the rotten orange up like a bizarre salesman. “People experience the world in three dimensions but computers can work in four. In a two dimensional world, this orange is a circle. In our world, it’s a sphere. But with four dimensions.”

Magnus placed the orange down on the counter and cut it swiftly into two halves. As it fell apart, the molding skin rolled to reveal glistening jewels of fruit within.

“It’s not rotten inside.”

“Huh.”

“How did you know it wouldn’t be rotten inside?”

“Oh, I’m terribly clever,” said Magnus with a wink. “And I’m pretty good at thinking like a computer. We’ve been experiencing time differently from how it should run. But this here shows us that linear time exists somewhere. And we can get back to it.”

“I don’t completely understand.”

“It’s alright because I do.”

“And do you know how to apply this,” Alec pointed at the orange halves, “To this.” He gestured to the room at large.

“I think we have to try and live the first night again. As closely as possible. Except for the part where we die.”

“And then what?”

“Hope it fixes the glitch.”

A creaking above them caused both men to snap their gaze to the ceiling. It did not collapse.

“I never thought an upstairs neighbor walking around would give me the feeling of a near-death experience,” said Alec.

“Clearly you’ve never lived below a tap dancer.”

Alec snorted and the ceiling fell down.

* * *

 

Magnus glanced up at his reflection. He felt tired. He looked fine. It was time, he knew, to go and relive the first night.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

He spoke casually to Clary, smoked what she gave him, and waited for Izzy to excuse herself for Alec’s sake.

Oh God, he thought, Alec didn’t remember his first night too clearly. What if missing any detail was enough to crash them once more.

But Izzy’s phone buzzed and Magnus breathed a little easier.

He stumbled over to the fish tank and prepared himself to stare into oblivion for a while.

There was Lorenzo, as usual, waiting to pounce on any poor unsuspecting soul who danced a little too close to his stream of stories. There was, however, no fish tank. Or it was a fish tank there were simply no fish in it. Nor water. When is a fish tank just a tank?

It didn’t matter.

He pretended to see an ocean ahead, refusing to surrender to failure so soon. Waiting for Camille to arrive had never been so insufferable. He stared at nothing for what felt like forever. And then came the beautiful ringing of her angry snap from the doorway. Relief took hold and he escaped out of the window. The child inside him hoped he would see the Chairman lurking beneath the bush, across the road. Of course, there were no signs of life. Heavy-hearted, Magnus turned back and entered the store.

Alec was there. Standing tall, but still.

“Hey,” said Magnus, spotting Izzy paying for a packet of cigarettes at the counter, “How’s your brother?”

Izzy shot Alec a quick look and whispered to Magnus, “He’s fine. He doesn’t know it yet but this is just the change he needs.”

“What happened?”

“Bad breakup. It’s for the best. He’s gonna be so much happier in the long run.”

“I hope so,” said Magnus.

At that moment, he caught Alec’s eye and knew he’d been spotted. He mouthed a quick “Hi,” and received a brisk nod in return.

“Listen, Iz,” said Alec from over by the pain pills, “I’m feeling better now. I think you should go back to your party.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He stood solid, like a solider. His certainty could not be mistaken for anything less.

“Magnus,” said Izzy, turning her attention, “Are you coming back with me?”

“No, darling, I think I’m a bit old for that sort of party.”

She went to argue but he held up a hand and smiled softly.

“Trust me,” he said. “It’s for the best.”

Alec and Izzy said a proper goodbye out on the street. It took a few minutes and involved a lengthy hug so Magnus wasted time buying the first candy bar his hand met. Alec gave Magnus a nod through the window when it was safe to reconvene.

“How did it go?” asked Magnus.

“I tried to propose without the ring. It was equally horrible.”

Alec’s tight voice indicated he didn’t want to speak on it further, so Magnus offered his own crumbs.

“Clary’s fish tank is empty,” he said. Alec looked surprisingly relieved to hear it. “No water or anything. I don’t think we could relive the first night properly if we tried a hundred times.”

“So it’s not a glitch."

“Or it’s not such an easy fix. We can’t relive the first night if things are going missing everywhere. It’s like… like it’s not restarting properly.”

“What do we do now?”

Magnus let out a heavy sigh and said, “Now, I need a drink. Back to mine? I think I need something stronger than your one bottle of wine. No offence.”

“It’s fine.”

Despite the taut grief which tugged the both of them into a slug of a walk, the silence they shared was the easiest in a long time. They still did not speak as Magnus unlocked his front door, but as Alec was about to cross the threshold, Magnus remembered the promise he’d made the Chairman.

“Wait,” said Magnus, slapping his palm against the door frame so the passage was blocked. “How do you feel about cats?”

Alec considered this question for a moment, which was almost enough for Magnus to let his arm fall.

“I like cats,” he said finally.

“Okay, you can come in.”

“Do you have a cat?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “Listen, I don’t know if it’s ruder to offer or to not offer you a glass of scotch?”

“I don’t want scotch.”

“I know, but which is ruder?”

Alec surveyed him for a moment. Magnus felt a little stupid but he had no idea what else to say. So he had fallen into his oldest habit of being ridiculous.

“What’s so Schrödinger about your cat?” asked Alec finally.

Magnus shrugged and said, “He’s been away for a few days.”

“Oh.”

“I found him the first night after this all started. But then it was like… I had him in my arms one second and the next he was gone.”

“So things have been disappearing since the beginning?”

“I suppose. Yeah. Shit.”

“Well, if we don’t get stuck forever then maybe you can make him an indoor cat. Maybe that’s your lesson to learn.”

Magnus shook his head firmly, making his disagreement clear with his throat while his mouth was full of scotch. He knew Alec was teasing, but it was a comment he’d heard one too many times.

“No?” asked Alec.

Magnus swallowed.

“You know,” said Alec, pressing on, his tone a little more serious. “Most cats die from accidents. It’s safer to keep them inside.”

“I don’t like the idea of caging something that was meant to be free. He’s not my possession; he’s my family.”

“Families put each other in cages all the time.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

Alec shrugged and strode over to a cabinet on which Magnus displayed an ungodly amount of trinkets. Most of them worthless beyond sentimentality.

“You have a lot of stuff,” he said.

“I’ve never been good at throwing things away.”

Alec reached down and tapped a timeworn carriage clock saying, more to himself than Magnus, “That’s cool.”

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” said Magnus, perching upon a kitchen stool and watching Alec closely.

Alec responded with a single raise of a heavy eyebrow, which Magnus took as a ‘yes.’

“Have you never spent the night with a man?”

Alec fumbled and an assortment of ornaments crashed to the floor. Shards of china streaked themselves through the rug.

“Sorry,” mumbled Alec, leaning down as though to tidy.

“Leave it,” said Magnus. “It’s either gonna fix itself or disappear next time we die.”

Alec looked conflicted, tight shouldered and lipped.

“It’s fine,” he reiterated.

Alec slowly rose back up and met Magnus’ eye. Silence hung heavy between them for far too long. Magnus was almost tempted to break it, but something sharp in Alec’s gaze held his tongue.

Finally, Alec said, “What if we don’t die this time?”

His voice was so very low, almost husky. Magnus was breathless for a moment before he could muster a response.

“What if we do?”

It wasn’t the answer he was looking for, that much was clear. Alec let out a little huff and shifted his eyes off to some unimportant patch on the wall.

“You’re acting like none of this matters, but what if it does?" said Alec. "What if the decisions we make have an impact on the rest of our lives?”

“Alexander,” he said. It did not recapture his gaze. “Even if things don’t reset themselves tomorrow, does it matter what you do tonight? I don’t see an audience. Whatever you do right now is your business.”

“You’re impossible,” snapped Alec.

Magnus tried not to flinch at the rejection.

“Sorry if I misread some signals,” he said, composing himself, back straight, jaw clenched. “I only wanted to let you know the offer was there.”

Alec stumbled, “I just mean… I don’t know.”

“Well, here’s what I know,” said Magnus. “I know that you’ve spent every single second of this loop trying to figure out how to shape yourself for the comfort of others. What if this is just a long drawn out death? Or the end of the world? Would you want to waste your last chance at doing something for yourself?”

“You've changed your theory? You think we're dying?”

“We’re all dying. I can’t say for sure when it’ll happen. Maybe we’ll both grow old. Or you will and I’ll be on passed out on the street all yellow and bloated while my liver explodes. But I’d rather be there than trapped in a picket fence prison.”

Alec swallowed. Hard. And his eyelids fluttered shut.

Magnus pressed on. He was hurting Alec, he knew, but it was far less hurt than Alec was causing himself.

“I know that and I know... that I have feelings for you,” said Magnus, knowing he would go mad if he said anything less.

Alec’s eyes snapped open.

Magnus continued, “I also know that it is completely inconvenient and that you’re probably going to run for the hills any second. But,” he paused to collect himself, “I want you to know it's okay to act on your feelings sometimes.”

Alec hadn’t moved at all while Magnus spoke and the anticipation grew so big Magnus thought it would crush the both of them before the ceiling could.

Then Alec breathed out, “Impossible,” with an intensity that made Magnus fall silent himself.

He did not know what to do with all the warmth rising within him. He needed to step out of the room. He needed to feel the cold air on his face. He needed to learn how to breathe again. Alec’s eyes were still on him. He wished desperately that his focus would fall back on the wall. Magnus was flushed and nervous, ridiculously nervous. And Alec still would not look away.

He wanted to beg Alec to at least say something. Do something.

And then Alec closed the space between them, crashing their lips together before Magnus had even completely registered what was happening. He still needed to catch his breath, but it was a far lesser need than the one to drown in Alec’s clumsy kisses.

The marble countertop dug deep into the small of Magnus’ back. The whole thing was messy and heavy-handed, and he loved everything about it. How many kisses had Alec given rather than taken? How long had he been composed and careful with romance? If this was his one night of freedom, Magnus was honoured to be the lucky man to receive the war wounds.

Alec pushed impossibly harder against Magnus and he almost worried he'd be knocked off his stool completely. But then Alec pulled Magnus towards him, with firm hands on his ass, and lifted him into the air. The second Magnus realised what was happening, he wrapped his legs around the other man’s waist.

Alec held Magnus as though it was nothing and Magnus decided then that maybe all those endless nights at the gym weren’t such a waste of time after all.

They could not have been closer. What with Alec’s hands still splayed on Magnus’ ass while his own hands pulled at the hair on the back of Alec’s neck. And when Alec did break the kiss to catch his breath, he pressed his forehead firmly against Magnus’ so that no proximity was lost.

Magnus let a moment pass, reveling in the sound of raptured breathing, before the need to be kissing Alec again grew to be too much.

He moaned into Alec’s mouth, letting one hand fall to the soft cotton of his t-shirt, where it grabbed a fistful of fabric. If all Alec would allow was this then Magnus would happily be held and kissed until the ceiling fell through, hurtling them back to their separate corners. But there was also a part of him that might burst if Alec’s shirt didn’t come off soon.

He pulled on the fabric, hard enough to make a point while still leaving Alec the space to decide what happened next.

After a few minutes, Alec broke their kiss once more. Magnus leaned forwards, instinctively, to recapture his lips, but before he could, Alec had spun them towards the sofa and thrown them both down onto it.

“Sorry,” said Alec, barely audible between heavy breaths. "Got a bit carried away."

Magnus laughed, "Not a problem."

An unguarded smile graced Alec’s face and if Magnus had had the mind to consider how the sight of that smile made his chest hurt, he’d have been a little worried.

But Alec had leant back and begun to pull his shirt over his head. There was no part of Magnus’ mind left free to worry.

* * *

 

A part of him had hoped that finally having Alec would satisfy his need for the man. This proved itself a false hope, Magnus realised, watching the steady rise and fall of Alec’s chest, only a little concealed by his silk sheets. He wanted to run his fingers through the dark hair that grew there or even to splay his hand and feel heart beats through his palm.

Alec’s snores were soothing; a clear and constant sign that sleep still held him. Magnus was sure the spell would be broken with dawn. Alec’s senses would return and even the joy of staring at his bare chest and longing to reach out would be snatched away.

Magnus shifted just the smallest bit closer and felt the pendant of his necklace smack against his own chest.

It was clear from early on in Magnus’ life that his mother was not like other mother’s. She did not come home every single night nor did she always turn up to walk him home from school. There was a time he had woken to a dining table heaped with watermelons. A few mornings later the same table was being carried out by movers.

“Mama, where are they taking all our things?” he’d asked, seven years old.

“We don’t need things anymore, darling,” she said, chopping melons on the floor. “We’re setting ourselves free.”

Mama never could decide who exactly she wanted to be nor how to go about getting there. Each morning was a mystery and it set tangled vines of terror to grow in Magnus’ stomach each morning.

And then came a miracle.

Mama picked up a bible and found the path to being a mother.

She was attentive, almost overbearing. And, while it was somewhat irritating to go from being largely unsupervised to intricately managed, Magnus went to bed on a full stomach and woke up with an empty one.

An inkling of experience told him not to get too used to it, but months became a year and there was no indication of change on the horizon.

They went to church every Sunday and payed their respects to the Virgin Mother before parting to confess their sins. It was on a Sunday that Mama did not stray from her chosen path, but instead hurtled the both of them down it at full speed.

“Darling,” she beckoned to Magnus as he made to walk towards confession. “I’ve arranged for a little meeting with Father Peter. In his office.”

“Okay,” said Magnus uncertainly.

He recognised the wide-eyed look she had about her and the vines began to twist.

“Your mother is concerned for you,” said Father Peter.

“Why?”

“Don’t be mouthy with the priest,” she snapped.

Magnus held his tongue.

“We just need to do a few tests,” said Father Peter. “To see if there’s something a little off.”

Magnus had the distinct feeling of being in a doctor’s office. But instead of an eyechart, the wall displayed a small statue of Mary surrounded by tea candles.

Magnus leaned back in his chair and let the stale breath wash over him. Father Peter held Magnus’ face in his hands and gazed into each one of his eyes as though looking for a stray eyelash.

“Oh, dear,” he whispered.

“What?” asked Magnus.

“Magnus!” snapped his mother.

The good news was that for a small fee of just a few hundred dollars per session, Father Peter was certain he could release Magnus, eventually, from the demon’s hold.

The bad news was that, of course, there was a demon grasping at Magnus’ soul.

He didn’t sleep for weeks and when he did there were visions of fire and brimstone to greet him. Eight times he cried as Father Peter strapped him to his bed, his mother watching fearfully in the corner, Latin barking out.

Until he could no longer stand it.

He resisted and Father Peter called out that it was a sign the demon was taking a stronger hold. Magnus kicked up and demanded freedom.

“I don’t like it!” he cried.

Father Peter used his forearm to slam Magnus back down onto the bed while his mother sobbed so loudly it drowned out all other noise. Magnus could not bear it any longer and so leaned forwards just enough so that he might be able to sink his little teeth into Father Peter’s arm.

Father Peter let out a yelp and pulled back. Magnus wanted to run but guilt was stronger than fear, in that moment, and he saw a glimmer of blood on the man’s arm.

Of course he resented the church for allowing it to get so far, for having a dogma in place that took advantage of people like Mama. But he knew, too, that if he had simply levelled his head and controlled his temper, his mother might not have been pushed to destruction.

“I wish I knew what she had,” he’d confessed once.

“It doesn’t mean you have it,” said Cat firmly. “We inherit susceptibility to mental illness, not the illnesses themselves.”

He never did muster the courage to confess the true cause for his curiosity. He just needed to know how much of it was her fault. If he could shift any of his own guilt.

But even if there had been a way to treat her at the time, she could hardly be held responsible for not accepting it. He resented the power and weakness of the mind. What a nightmare the world would be if all ailments could flee from their medicine.

His mother had been convinced she was well.

She was convinced Magnus was not.

She was right about one of those.

Demon or no, something dark claimed Magnus’ soul. It was only a matter of time before Alec saw it too.

When Alec’s eyes fluttered open, Magnus prepared to see panic.

“Morning,” said Magnus tentatively.

“Morning,” replied Alec with an easy smile as he rolled onto his side.

His face was so heartbreakingly open. Magnus didn’t know what to do with it. Nor did he know what to do when he inevitably lost it. The pendulum had swung so much further than Magnus had expected. And it was time to swing back.

“It’s to wake up and have you still here,” said Alec.

Swing back, thought Magnus.

Alec reached out and entwined their hands.

Swing back.

Alec’s eyes found Magnus’s necklace. The only thing either of them was wearing.

Swing back.

“Will you tell me the full story now?”

Swing back.

He felt Alec squeeze his hand when no words came out.

Swing back.

He should be ashamed of himself, he knew. He had Alec over the precipice of honesty and yet when the time had come for his own leap, he was digging his heels so deep into the ground that he wouldn’t be surprised to find them twisting and gnarled.

“It’s okay,” said Alec softly. “If you’re not ready to talk about it.”

Magnus’ heart swelled to dangerous proportions.

Alec continued to whisper sweetly, “You know. Either way, if we’re dying or we’re getting closer to an exit – I’m happy with how I spent this particular death loop.”

Suspended then, thought Magnus, for the time being. It would swing back. Until the inevitable happened, he would keep his secrets along with Alec’s unguarded eyes and strong hands.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that is literally as sexy as I can be rip me, a lesbian, writing this 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you thought <3


	6. Porcelain

Alec thought for a terrifying second he was having another heart attack. He half-expected, even, to look up in a second and find himself gazing back at his own reflection. But the heat in his cheeks, the dizzying spin of his head, and the bursting in his chest was a symptom of who lay beside him rather than what lay inside of him.

The golden light of morning filtered soft and sweet across his lover’s face right down to the place their hands were joined.

Together. In Magnus’ bed. 

It was overwhelmingly wonderful. So overwhelming he wondered how it hadn’t killed him already. If the ceiling did fall down on them in that second, Alec thought, and it was truly the end of him, he would be glad he’d given himself a shot at happiness. Even if just for a morning and a night.

There was something different about Magnus’ face, though. It was hard and fixed. His mouth was turned up but his eyes were withdrawn.

“Are you hungry?” asked Alec softly. “Want me to make some breakfast?”

“You can cook?”

“I can make toast.”

“Can you make it French?”

“Like put a beret on it?”

Magnus looked genuinely concerned for a moment before Alec laughed.

“I’m kidding,” he said quickly. “I know what French toast is. I can give it a go, but no promises. I also don’t know which of your ingredients have gone rotten.”

Magnus groaned and screwed up his whole face. Alec’s heart burst at the sight of it.

“I almost forgot about that,” he mumbled into his pillow.

“It’s okay,” said Alec. “I’ll sort food out. You can take first shower.”

With a quick kiss pressed to Magnus’ cheek, Alec rolled out of bed and began to redress.

Magnus smirked and said, “Who’d have known one good lay would make you this chipper first thing in the morning?”

“Who’s to say I’m not always this chipper in the morning?”

The bread was still good, but the eggs were collapsing in on themselves. Rather than deal with that right away, he simply let the fridge slam close in order to save his nose.

Just plain toast it was then, he thought with a sigh.

He moved to plug in Magnus’ toaster and received a hefty dose of current through his arm and into the rest of him until he was staring at his own face.

It had been a long time since he’d felt the level of purpose that inspired him to half-run the streets until he saw Magnus.

“Hi,” said Magnus, letting a laugh slip. “Did you run?”

Alec kept himself fit, was good at controlling his body. But he’d run with so little caution he was still catching his breath when he replied, “Yeah. Hi.”

“Hi,” repeated Magnus. “You good?” Alec nodded. “So… yours or mine?”

Alec considered the question for a moment before saying, “Yours is much comfier.”

His blush was borderline scorching as they walked, but he was too distracted by Magnus to care.

“I never thought I’d see the day Alexander Lightwood would choose to be comfortable,” said Magnus.

“Don’t lecture me about comfort while you’re wearing leather pants.”

* * *

 

They tried to remain focused on the task, on escaping. But it proved rather difficult. Even after consciously choosing to sit at opposite ends of the room, their gazes kept flickering to one another.

It was a strange feeling, to be in what he hoped were the beginning stages of a relationship while trying to solve their existential mystery.

After a useless twenty minutes, Magnus closed his laptop and tossed it carelessly across the sofa.

“I think we need a break,” he said, standing and stretching so that his shirt rode up a little and Alec got a marvelous view of his lower stomach. “It might help us concentrate in the long run.”

Alec dropped his phone so quickly he thought the screen might have cracked. Not that he cared.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, practically throwing himself from the stool to his feet.

Magnus answered with a wink and a wiggle over to the radio. After fiddling with the dial for a moment, he seemed to have found a station offering what he wanted. And what he wanted, it seemed, was salsa music.

“Shall we?” he said, offering Alec his hand.

“I can’t dance.”

“Everyone can dance.”

“Not me.”

Magnus gave him a look, eyebrow cocked and smile curling. It was impossible to refuse and it was clear that Magnus knew it.

With a sigh, Alec held out his hand for Magnus to take.

Concentration and hope could only get him so far, he realised, when despite his best efforts, he stood firmly on Magnus’ toe.

Panic struck him.

Alec couldn’t believe he’d failed to consider this earlier, that once Magnus had had him once, the alluring shimmer of it all would wear off. Magnus would see that truly Alec was anything but a catch. Awkward, uninteresting, and a painfully bad dancer

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I did say,” he stammered.

Magnus threw his head back in wild laughter and Alec felt himself relax somewhat. It didn’t make him a dancer, but it did make it easier for Magnus to guide him.

“Stop staring at the floor,” he chastised.

“I don’t want to step on your feet again!” cried Alec.

“Worry less and move more.”

“The more I move, the more there is to worry about.”

Alec followed Magnus’ lead as best he could, but the immaculate control he usually exercised easily was lost to him the moment he tried to set it to a beat.

“Sorry,” he said, stepping once more on Magnus’ toes.

“I didn’t think it was possible, but you’ve proven me wrong. Maybe some people just can’t dance.”

“I warned you.”

“It’s okay,” said Magnus, pulling Alec in so they were chest to chest. “We can find something else to do.”

They didn’t fall asleep right away afterwards. They lay together and exchanged words in quiet voices. As though telling great secrets.

“Why videogames?” asked Alec.

“I could ask you the same.”

“I asked first.”

Magnus scrunched up his nose in faux irritation and Alec couldn’t help but place a kiss on it.

“Fine,” said Magnus. “I got into videogames because I’m good at thinking like a computer and I’m good at selling things. That meant I could start working freelance pretty early on in my career.”

“And you don’t think answering to other people?”

“God, no.”

“I get that.”

Magnus looked at him curiously and said, “I don’t even know what you do.”

“It’s boring.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Then, realising his mistake, Magnus added, “I just meant that-”

“I know what you meant,” laughed Alec. “It’s fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So… what do you do? I mean, your apartment’s not exactly shoddy even if it is the least comfortable place I’ve ever slept.”

“I’m an accountant.”

Magnus snorted.

“Yeah, it wasn’t exactly my dream. But the transfer course worked around my mom’s hours so I could watch my little brother while Izzy was studying.”

“Well now I feel bad for laughing. I mean, it is a respectable job.”

“I’m a very respectable man,” teased Alec. “Or I was until you got your hands on me.” He shifted a little closer to Magnus. “But I’ve been thinking about doing something else for some time. I’m just not sure what.”

“You’re young. You’ve got time.”

“You talk like you’re a hundred years older than me. I think there’s about four year’s difference between us.”

“In linear time, yes, but if we’re talking vital organs, my liver’s probably indistinguishable from that of a sixty year old regular at an Irish bar.”

“I’ve never seen you drink that much,” said Alec, bringing a knuckle to stroke at a mussed tuft of hair beneath Magnus’ ear.

“I’ve been trying to stop.”

“Good.”

He wanted to kiss Magnus again, but the other man was rolling away and out of bed.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, angel,” he said. “But we probably should get something done tonight. Other than one another.”

* * *

 

In the loops to come, Alec found great difficulty in staying on task with Magnus right there the whole time. When death could be around any corner, when any of those deaths could be their last. Any second spent not touching Magnus felt like an unforgivable waste.

Shoulder to shoulder, Magnus’ legs across his lap, chin on Magnus’ shoulder, lips to lips, lips to knuckles, lips to knees.

Each death served as a mere inconvenience; a loose paving stone on the path into Magnus’ arm.

They split studies of four dimensional reality in between conversational tangents on why exactly they were trapped and how to go about escaping.

“What if it’s a glitch in the Matrix?”

“I think I’d believe in God over the Matrix.”

“Oh, me too, but before this whole thing started I’d have believed in leprechauns over death loops.”

Alec laughed, loudly and unabashed. It felt good to simply react to something with joy. His jaw was a little less clenched than it had been some ten deaths ago. He’d let himself feel Magnus and he knew now he could never go back to the rigid selfless soldier he’d spent his life posing as.

He’d done what he’d thought was the right thing and he’d hurt Lydia for years; he never had time for his brother and he’d let himself die right in front of his sister.

The line he’d been afraid to so much as glance at was suddenly miles behind him and there was no going back. Not without collapsing on the finish line, on the dirty floor of a corner store while Izzy wept.

“Hey,” said Magnus.

Alec was brought abruptly out of the realm of possibility and back onto the precipice. He smiled.

“Sorry,” said Alec.

“Where did you go?” he asked. “You had your serious face on.”

“I was just thinking about what happens next.”

“Ah.”

“It’s fine. It’s good. It’ll be good.”

“Unless we die.”

“Well, I was more thinking about what happens if we don’t,” he laughed, wrapping his arm around Magnus’ shoulder. “Maybe we can go on a real date. You know, without worrying the soup will be poisoned or something.”

But Magnus pulled away sharply and said, “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” said Alec. “Did I say something wrong?”

“We should stop this.”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been trying to do this whole time?”

“No. I mean this,” he cried, gesturing wildly between them. “We should just go back to how it was before.”

Alec felt that same pain from their first morning together. It was just a lot sharper; more lethal. This was followed, however, by frustration.

“I don’t understand,” said Alec. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

Magnus was blinking fast, worrying his thumbs through his fingers at his sides.

“Magnus, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to fall in love with you,” he said suddenly.

Like the sentiment had slipped and tumbled out of Magnus before he could stop it. He had stolen the breath from Alec. There was too much there to swallow. Too much good and far too much bad.

Eventually, helplessly, he replied “Why not?”

“Because you are going to leave me.”

“Says who?”

“What are you gonna do if we find a way out? A few weeks ago. Or a month ago. Or… I don’t even know anymore I’ve lost track, but at the start of this whole thing, you were desperately trying to get a woman to marry you.”

“Yeah, I was. And you showed me how wrong I was. You showed me I could choose to be happy.”

Magnus shook his head. Again and again.

Guilt struck Alec heavy in the stomach. If Magnus had been on the verge of this, Alec should have picked up on it. He’d been so blinded by his own happiness that he’d neglected Manus’.

Alec took a step forwards and said, “Magnus, I’m sorry.” Magnus’ eyes shot up in wait. “I’m sorry I haven’t made it clear. I’m sorry I made it feel like I was using you for one repeated night of living out my most repressed fantasies.”

“That’s not what I-”

“Let me finish. Please.”

After a moment, Magnus nodded curtly and Alec continued.

“Magnus, the way I feel when I’m around you – it just feels right. In a way I’ve never felt before. In a way I’ve never let myself feel before. And honestly, you know, honestly I don’t think it’s just a glitch. I don’t think it’s a coincidence we’re trapped together. I mean, do you not get the feeling that there’s some sort of deeper existential connection here?”

“I can’t have this conversation. I can’t be here,” said Magnus, darting out of his own apartment.

“Magnus, wait!”

Alec ran after him but before he could reach him, he tripped over his own feet and snapped his neck. He could only assume Magnus had tumbled down the stairs. He thought it was also safe to assume that Magnus would not be there to meet him in their usual spot.

He wandered as close to Izzy’s apartment as he dared, but saw no sign of Magnus (or anyone for that mat

* * *

ter) climbing down the fire escape. He returned to the pier and he knocked over and over on Magnus’ door.

Following a final hunch, Alec eventually found Magnus in the park where they’d sat together the first night they’d met.

“Hi,” said Alec weakly.

Magnus was slumped on a park bench, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

At Alec’s words, Magnus huffed out an, “Of course.”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“Sorry for being so dramatic.”

“You’re allowed to be dramatic if it’s how you feel,” said Alec, perching beside Magnus on the bench. “Do you want to be alone?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s fine. You can let me know when you figure it out.”

A sad smile graced Magnus’ face. Alec ached at the sight of it.

“Can I say something?” he asked. Magnus nodded. “I want to say it clearly. I want you to know that I’m not just going to leave you when this is all over. If it’s ever over.”

Magnus sighed and said, “You know what I’m like? I’m like one of those rotten bits of fruit, just the other way around. I might look all ripe and pretty on the outside but deep down it’s a whole different story.”

“You really believe you’re unlovable, don’t you?” said Alec, anger burning down to his clenched hands at every person who ever made Magnus feel that way. “I don’t know. It seems like there’s a lot of people who love you. Maybe it’s not that you’re afraid no one’s gonna love you. Maybe you’re afraid somebody will. Maybe you don’t think you deserve that.”

Magnus stared down firmly, tears brimming. Alec wanted to wrap his arms around the man and pull him close, but knew that would be more of a comfort to him that it was to Magnus.

The crucifix that dangled from his neck caught the light from a nearby streetlamp.

Alec gestured towards the thing and said, “It’s something to do with that right? You don’t have to tell me. I’m not arrogant enough to think I can fix whatever it is that’s plaguing you. But I think you need to talk to someone.”

Voice broken, Magnus said, “Look who’s all pro-therapy now.”

“Well, it’s a lot easier to see what someone else needs than it is to see what you yourself need.”

“That’s an understatement.”

Alec laughed. It looked, for a moment, that Magnus might smile back as he met Alec’s eye. But then all life left his face as he stared hard at a point just over Alec’s shoulder.

Alec glanced behind him, seeing nothing but space.

“Magnus, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“Can’t you see it? Please just tell me you can see it.”

Alec turned frantically, desperate to find the source of fear in Magnus’ eyes.

“I can’t see anything,” he said. Magnus’ breathing became erratic. “Magnus, listen to me, okay? What can you see?”

“It’s me.”

“What is?”

“It’s me. I see me.”

Alec brought his gaze back to Magnus’ fearful face and saw blood pouring from his nose.

“I can’t breathe,” choked Magnus.

Alec would have responded had his own throat not closed up entirely.

He found Magnus in the park again, slumped on the floor, knees knocking with nerves. The bench had not vanished, but Magnus hadn’t made it that far, it seemed, before standing had become too much.

Walking over, Alec said quickly, “Magnus, people have started disappearing too.”

“I know.”

“What are we going to do?”

“The same thing we’ve been doing since this began; nothing helpful.”

“You’ve helped me,” said Alec, kneeling before Magnus at a respectful distance. “Now let me help you.”

Magnus’ face was full of childlike fear as he looked Alec dead in the eye and whispered, “Can you see it now?”

Alec was full of so much want. So much new want for the man before him. He had grown accustomed to wanting to touch him, but that was nothing compared to the burning want to wipe every fear from his face, to give him just one genuine smile.

Instead, he could only say, “Magnus, I can’t see anything. Nobody’s here except for us.”

“Oh God,” he said, falling forwards so he was a crumbled heap upon his own knees. “I’m crazy. I’m completely crazy. That’s it. That’s the answer.”

“Magnus-”

“Don’t! Okay, don’t! Don’t tell me I’m not because it’s just not true.”

“Okay. Okay. I won’t,” said Alec quickly. “But, is there anything – anything – I can do to help?”

Magnus shook his head.

Alec felt just about as broken as Magnus looked.

“Can I at least stay here with you? Please?” asked Alec.

Magnus lurched back suddenly, scrambling at the chain around his throat.

“I can’t breathe,” he choked out.

“Magnus, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” said Alec, hands hovering around Magnus’ face.

Magnus did not seem to hear him, however. He was choking and sobbing and there was nothing Alec could do because a corner of his brain had just exploded.

He lurched forwards, over the sink, and stared at the blank bathroom wall. It was a habit. He knew the mirrors were gone.

Alec rushed out, ready to run out without excuse, to find Magnus as quickly as possible. But instead he stopped frozen in his steps. There was no Lydia left to abandon. There was no one in the restaurant at all. No tables, no chairs. Just wide empty space. Everything and everyone had vanished from reality.

Blood pounding in his ears, Alec resumed his running with renewed fervor. If he could at least find Magnus there, at the end of the world, he might be able to find purchase and drop anchor for just a moment.  

* * *

 

Alec saw no cars or people on his way. If things disappearing was a sign that the end was coming, the end truly had come.

Magnus had run too, to their regular place on the street corner. Alec did find some purchase at the sight of him. And he hoped Magnus found similar comfort in his presence.

“Alexander,” he breathed.

“Magnus!”

Without hesitation, they wrapped their arms around one another. Alec pressed his face into Magnus’s shoulder and felt Magnus’ nose nudging at his neck.

“I’m glad you’re not gone,” said Magnus.

Alec pulled back to get a proper look at Magnus’ face, cupping his chin in his hands.

“Do you think this is it?” said Alec. “There’s nobody else left.”

Magnus’ confusion was clear.

“Not for you?” asked Alec.

“No. I was just going to tell you. I was going to say that Clary and Izzy are okay, that I saw both of them, but no one else.”

“Izzy’s still here?”

“Yeah.”

Alec tried to steady his thoughts along with his breathing.

After a moment, he said, “Do you think my mum’s still here?”

“I don’t know.”

“I have to see her.”

Alec moved to run past Magnus, prepared to make the long journey before the ground swallowed him whole.

But Magnus grabbed his arm as he went, keeping him still, pulling him to stand face-to-face with Magnus once more.

As he did this, Magnus said, “Wait! Wait, no, don’t go.”

“I have to. If this is the end and we don’t come out the other side, I have to see her before I go.”

“Don’t leave me alone. Please. Just stay with me and we’ll go somewhere safe,” he begged, frantic and senseless.

“Magnus, there’s nowhere safe. We’re literally on the brink of death wherever we go and we’ve spent so much time trying to fix it. If we can’t do that then the least I can do is fix things with my mom. In one version of reality anyway. Maybe you can fix something for you?”

“No. No, this is ridiculous. We need to stay together and stay safe.”

“Magnus,” said Alec softly, pulling free of Magnus’ grasp. “I can’t. We can’t.”

Magnus snorted, “Well then maybe I’ll just walk off a building. End us both.”

“No you won’t.”

“Oh, don’t pretend like you know me.”

“Is that it?”

Magnus gave a shrug.

Alec said, “That might be the last thing you ever say to me. I’m serious. We might die this time and not come back.”

Magnus stared back at Alec like he was trying to prove something. Alec wanted to give him one last kiss, but he knew better than to give into that particular temptation. If he kissed Magnus there and then he’d not be able to stop.

Instead, he said, “Listen, Magnus, I know you think of yourself as this deeply rotten person. But I just don’t see it. In fact, I think you might just be the best person I’ve ever known. I mean it. Thank you for changing my life. I didn’t even know that was possible before we met.”

Magnus’ mouth fell open as though he was lost for words. Alec just gave him a small smile before going to find his mother.

* * *

 

Faith was tricky.

It felt as though the world folded beneath his feet, guiding him swiftly and safely to his destination. He wondered if it was a sign that he had finally chosen the right path or if it was simply his unwavering belief that the path was right which created the illusion of a sign. It was, after all, an empty path. There were no people or vehicles to be mindful of. There were no onlookers to shrink in on himself before.

And yet.

He remembered believing in God. He remembered that unwavering faith and he mourned its absence more often than he did the absence of his father.

They abandoned him at a similar time.

It had seemed, with faith in his heart, that his path ahead was clear. He did not know if the loss of his father prompted the loss of faith and subsequently that clarity. It was just as likely that the loss of the clarity prompted the loss of the faith.

He couldn’t remember now. It was impossible to separate the two. He had reached his mother’s door.

She answered with unnatural speed. There she was, the woman he’d given up everything to keep happy.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Alec!” she greeted with a warm smile. “What are you doing here?”

He wondered if it was all an act. He knew now how terrible he was at seeing through the masks of others, so consumed had he been his whole life with making sure his own was secured tightly.

He wondered now if he could separate his determined misery from her perceived happiness. It didn’t feel impossible.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

Her apartment was empty save for her sofa. It faced the space of the wall her television had once been.

She didn’t comment on this. She didn’t even seem aware that there had ever been other things filling the room. She walked through open space with the same smile she’d met him with until they were both seated on the sofa.

That was when her smile faltered.

“Darling, you’re crying,” she said,

He was? Alec touched his cheek and felt the newly familiar dampness.

“Sorry,” he said, before he could stop himself. “Mom, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you happy?”

Maryse Lightwood looked at her son with surprise until it faded into something else; as though she was really looking at him for the first time in his life.

 


	7. Matryoshka

“I think you might just be the best person I’ve ever known,” Alec had said. 

Magnus wanted to chase that feeling. He wanted to chase the man who had consumed his whole heart, whole mind, so very quickly. But if he caught it, what would he do with it?

Camille hadn’t been wrong the day they’d broken up.

The last time.

As in the _last_ last time.

“I want real love,” he’d confessed.

“Oh, please,” she’d replied with the same minimal effort she ever needed to exert in order to tear Magnus right back down. “You wouldn’t know what to do with love even if you found it.”

That familiar feeling of being a lost, lonely child sank its teeth into him right more, scratching at the very bones of him. And what did he do when he felt lost? No, not that. The times when he made the right choice. He wandered through the empty streets, eyes on his feet, steady as they were, heels, toe, no twist. It did not take as long as it should have to reach Caterina’s.

“Magnus!” she cried.

He was glad to see her, but he wasn’t surprised. If the important people were yet to vanish, Cat had no place being absent.  

“God, I’ve missed you,” he said, pulling her close.

She laughed, giving him just a small squeeze in response before stepping back.

“Are you okay?” she said, looking at him. “You look… tired.”

“Oh, I am. I’m exhausted.”

“Come in. I’ll make us tea.”

Magnus kept his eyes on the stove the whole time, as though there was anything he would be able to do if the universe decided to blow them both to high heavens. Or high hell in his case.

But the flames were lit and controlled as Cat boiled the water.

While he waited, he played with his mother’s crucifix. It was a bizarre comfort given the circumstances under which it had been bestowed upon him, but it pulled him down to the ground in a way his feet nor his head had ever been able to.

Before the first session with Father Peter, his mother had begun to wear the crucifix. It had been long on her and the shine of the metal had caught Magnus’ magpie eye. He’d always had a habit of putting on his mother’s jewellery and it had never been a habit she’d so much as acknowledged let alone discouraged before the light of the cross struck her in the chest.

“Here,” she’d said, pulling pearls from her son’s neck and taking the crucifix off from around her own. “Why don’t you wear this instead?”

The chain had been too long for him then.

It still felt too long.

Cat pushed the tea beneath his nose to bring his senses back to the present. If that was where he was. If he was anywhere outside of his mind.

Of all the things to inherit, he’d have taken his mother’s singing voice over a vulnerability to madness.

“I’m mad,” he said.

“Don’t use that word,” said Cat.        

Magnus smiled weakly at her and wrapped his hands around the warm mug.

“As you wish, my dear,” he said.

“Not even in your head.”

“I don’t have control over my head. That’s the problem. If I did, then I wouldn’t be mad.”

“Are you going to let me help you this time?”

“I think this is one I have to figure out alone.”

“You can’t do everything alone.”

Magnus gave her a curious look which she responded to with pointed silence.

“I don’t do everything alone,” he said finally.

“When was the last time you let anyone help you with anything?”

“What are you talking about? I come to you all the time.”

“You sort of come to me. You poke your toe over the line but when I try to offer you any comfort you shrink back into yourself, get all straight-backed and Independent Woman.”

Magnus laughed.

Cat continued, “I’m serious. You’re determined to live your life without leaning on anyone else. Well, you can’t. You need people.”

“I don’t need people and people certainly don’t need me.”

“What is the greatest movie of all time?”

Without hesitation, Magnus said, “Funny Girl.”

It wasn’t, by either of their standards, the actual greatest movie of all time. But it was the movie they watched together almost weekly throughout college. It was their nostalgia movie. It was a comfort to climb under the blanket of Barbra Streisand pouring her heart out on screen over Omar Sharif.

“And if we learnt anything from that masterpiece, it’s that people who need people are the luckiest people in the world.”

“Okay, well firstly, I’m not a lucky person so that counts me out. And secondly, I think the most important lesson we learnt from Funny Girl is that love leaves you alone on the stage at the end of the movie.”

“Since when have you had a problem with taking center stage?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do,” she said sweetly. “But she doesn’t regret trying. That’s the point. Of course not all human connection is going to end well, but the good things you get from other people is part of what makes life so worth living.”

There was a long pause before she finished with, “You used to see the worth in living.”

Magnus had forgotten, for a moment, that it was the end of the world. There was just something about Cat that made him feel eighteen and invincible. He didn’t remember at what age he lost that feeling. He supposed at a certain point he just got tired.

“You know, I used to be quite brave,” he said.

“You still are.”

“No. No I’m not.”

“It might feel like that sometimes because you’re up against more horrors than most.”

“I think I’m more afraid of the sweet dreams than the bad ones.”

“Or you’re afraid of caring too much about something you could lose.”

“I’ve lost Chairman Meow.”

“He’ll come back.”

“No. He’s gone. He disappeared completely.”

“He’ll come back,” she repeated, firmer this time. “You’re his home. You’ll find each other.”

A shadow moved in Magnus’ peripheral and a panic set it.

“Oh, God,” he cried, burying his forehead into the palm of his hand. “He’s back.”

“Who’s back?”

Magnus met her eye and saw concern, but nothing beyond it. Was this even Catarina? There were waves of her rushing out, but

Perhaps if this was the center of reality, this was the most central and important part of Cat; the core of her very soul; her open heart.

Magnus brought his gaze to the far corner of the room where his ten year old self stood waiting, looking just about as scared as Magnus felt.

“Can you see him?” he asked of Cat.

“No, darling,” she said softly, taking his hand. “I only see you.”

Magnus pulled back sharply. Not from her touch. From the squeezing, burning, choking at his throat.

Magnus could not breathe. Really and truly. All those moments in life when he had felt as though he was choking, as though he might die, it was nothing compared to the tightening around his throat.

Stars flashed in his vision and it was anything but beautiful.

He reached up to claw at the chain. It had been pulled so very taut that there was no removing it. There was nothing to be done. Ever tighter it squeezed until he could see nothing, feel nothing, save for starlight and starfire. 

* * *

 

Alec forced himself to look at his mother – to really and truly look at her.

“Are you happy?” he asked.

And she looked back at him – really and truly.

“I’m happier than I used to be,” she said. “Immeasurably so. I am so proud of you, of your brother, even your sister.”

Alec snapped before he could stop himself, “You should be prouder of Izzy. She’s brave enough to go after what she really wants in life. To try and be happy.”

“Alec,” said Maryse, almost appalled at the words she was about to say, “Are _you_ happy?”

Alec let the tears flow hot and heavy from his eyes as he gave her the slightest shake of his head.

“How long has this been going on?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he sobbed, hearing the child-like inflection and hardly caring. “I don’t remember.”

His mother was crying too.

“Oh, don’t,” he said, reaching out to put a comforting arm around her.

She pulled back, shifting instead so she was facing Alec.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“It’s my job to worry about you.”

Alec shook his head.

Her words were wrong and right at once. He could not stand it. He could not stand the crawling of his own skin.

His courage faltered for a second as he half-wished he had taken up Magnus’ offer. They might have been able to hide in a small corner, together, forever, forgetting the dying world beyond.

Alec was not afraid of the world around him fading. He was afraid, he realised, of _her_ fading.

Fearful of his own mother and of the precipice her love balanced upon, of it crumbling to dust.

It was not up to him, he knew, the terms and conditions of her love. His muscles were strained, limbs close to tearing off as he tried to keep all the binding ties of their life, their family, from slipping loose.

“Alec,” cried his mother, “What’s wrong?”

The knife in his chest had grown so very sharp he could not control his face. He could not pretend, even before his mother, that everything was pleasant.

He coughed and blood splattered from his mouth, across the upholstery and onto his mother’s shirt.

“Sorry,” he said, raspy, reaching out for the place he had stained her. “I’m sorry.”

She brushed him off and reached forwards.

“What’s wrong?” she repeated firmly.

“Mom,” he said. It hurt to speak. It hurt more not to. “I’m gay.”

An inscrutable shadow flickered across her face.

The piercing pressed ever harder into his heart and lungs. There were no further words he could muster to comfort her, no breath to steady. With a shaking hand, Alec fumbled at his chest until he found the hilt of the almost imperceptible blade. Almost. Determination set him right and slowly, carefully, he pulled the knife from him.

It felt, for a moment, as if he would be pulling forever. Like some dark parody of a clown tugging at multi-coloured, bloodstained handkerchiefs.

But then, just when his arms could not stretch any further away from himself, the knife was free. It was no longer cutting away at the inside. It was simply sitting lifeless in his hands. To do with whatever he wished.

Alec looked up at his mother who was staring at the space in his chest where the knife had just been.

“You’re bleeding,” she said, fearful.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. But it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Maryse choked on a sob as she said, “I’m the mother. I should be saying that to you.”

Alec could not argue. The bleeding had taken too much from him. As the room turned dark, the last things his eyes found to hook onto was his mother’s tear-stained face, his mother’s small hands reaching for the knife.

It was too late to put it back in. It would not save him.

He fell into death, far closer to peaceful than any time before.

* * *

 

Magnus spluttered, hunched over a bathroom sink. His reflection in the mirror held no angry red rings around its neck. In the mirror. The mirror was back.

Pushing himself off the porcelain, Magnus ran, full-burst, towards the door. He fumbled for just a moment with the trigger, half-convincing himself that the voices and footsteps beyond were a symptom of his madness. Mad, mad Magnus. A grown man still wearing his mother’s jewellery.

But the crowd was back.

He felt almost giddy at the sight of it. The feel of the woman pushing past him to get into the bathroom. All of it was beautiful.

And there, in the middle of it all, was Clary hovering in the kitchen.

“Sweet Birthday Baby!” she greeted.

“And what a sweet birthday it is.”

“You like your party then?”

“It’s perfect. Well, almost perfect. I’m just not sure about my outfit.”

“It’s fabulous, Magnus. Everything you wear is fabulous.

“Well, obviously,” he said. She laughed. “But what about the necklace? I’m not sure it suits me.”

She scrunched up her nose and said, “It’s alright.”

“Well, that’s not good enough,” he said, pulled it off and tossing it to the floor as if it were nothing. “It’s my birthday. I can’t look anything less than perfect.”

Clary snorted a laugh.

“My neck’s feeling a little naked now, though. Do you have anything I could borrow?”

“I’ll fetch you something if you promise to keep an eye on the oven. I don’t trust vegan cake to cook like normal cake.”

“Well, if it tastes anything like cake people will be impressed. I’d rather have a birthday chicken or two.”

“Right there with you,” she said, taking a long drag on her joint before vanishing into the crowd.

* * *

 

Alec felt the pain in his chest subside and saw bright whiteness. He thought that perhaps this was the true end of it all. And then the smell of rose scented soap barely covering stale urine hit him.

A bathroom. A sink. A mirror baring his reflection.

He forced a smile, just to test it.

The mirror imagine smiled back and so Alec smiled wider.

“Listen, I can’t stay.”

“Why? Is something wrong?” said Lydia, concern clear.

Alec didn’t usually step a toe over the line of etiquette unless something was terribly wrong with his family. The only time he’d ever stood Lydia up before was when Max had fallen off of the monkey bars and shattered his forearm.

“Everything’s fine,” he said quickly. “Great even.”

She did not seem convinced, however, and he suddenly remembered the person he was. Or had been. Or needed to grow from.

“I just think it’s time we stopped pretending,” he said.

A hesitant smile played on her lips.

“Yeah?” she asked.

“Yeah. We’re both miserable. And I know you’ve wanted to end things for a long time and I know I haven’t made it easy.”

A fat tear ran fast down her cheek.

Reaching across the table for her hand, Alec said. “You deserve someone who can really love you. I mean it. You’re been amazing.”

“No I haven’t.”

“Yes you have. You’ve been there when you really didn’t have to be.”

Lydia squeezed his hand and said, “I should have said something to you earlier.”

“I didn’t let you.”

They sat like that for a moment, just holding hands and looking at one another.

“I should go,” said Alec finally, pulling free.

As he did so, he knocked over Lydia’s wine class and sent the deep red liquid inside splattering over the table cloth and onto Alec’s shirt.

“Oh, God,” said Lydia. “Let me help you wash that out.”

Alec looked down and saw blood for just a second. Then it was gone. It was just wine. His body was whole.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s fine.”

“Alec, it’ll stain.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s just a shirt.”

Lydia stared at him in disbelief and asked, “What the hell happened in that bathroom?”

“I just… took a good, long, hard look at myself in the mirror.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

It almost looked as though she believed him.

“I’m sorry for just leaving you here like this, but there’s somewhere I really need to be,” he said, pulling out his card. “Here, put it all on this.”

If she protested, he did not stick around long enough to witness it. He knew that this was quite likely going to stick in linear history and that he was being incredibly impatient and rude with a woman he owed much to. He knew he’d ruined that shirt for good.

He knew, also, that if he didn’t see his sister soon then he might just fall apart.

* * *

 

Magnus fought the urge to flee the scene, to find Alec and to hold him to that promise of sticking around. Clary was making him a terrible cake, after all. The very least he owed her was to make sure it didn’t burn.

So he lounged in the kitchen with Izzy and made it seem as though he was not enamoured completely with her brother.

“I don’t know that much about you Isabelle,” he said carefully. “Are you an artist as well?”

“Sometimes. But it’s not what I really want to do. It’s more of a hobby. Don’t let Clary know I said that though.”

Magnus laughed.

She continued, “I’m studying to become a forensic scientist.”

“That’s one of the most interesting things you could have said.”

It was Izzy’s turn to laugh.

Romance could wait, he thought.

Then Izzy’s phone buzzed. Then again. And again.

She grabbed it off of the counter and read on with ever-widening eyes.

“Sorry,” she breathed, sounding only half-conscious of the physical room she stood in. “I think I’m gonna have to call my brother.”

“Why?” asked Magnus, “Is something wrong with him?”

Nothing should be wrong with Alec. He’d come to terms with this whole process a lot easier than Magnus had, after a few false starts. Maybe that was when a restart was certain. Maybe the permanence of his actions were too much.

Izzy shrugged and said, “Oh, I don’t know. He’s definitely drunk though which is not like him.”

“Does he seem distressed?”

Izzy eyed Magnus with irritation and confusion.

“Sorry,” he stammered. “Sorry, I just – you seemed worried.”

With a nod of acceptance, Izzy turned back to her phone screen.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to run. He doesn’t sound right whatever’s going on.”

She smiled quickly at Magnus before grabbing her coat and taking off into the night.

“Wait!” he cried.

Magnus began to pound down the stairs behind her before a lurching in his stomach halted his movements.

“Magnus, what the hell! I asked you to watch the cake – what’s wrong?”

Magnus turned to meet Clary’s eye. She stood only few steps above him, beads swinging at her side.

“I think I’m stuck,” he confessed quietly.

“What do you mean?”

Magnus considered shuffling a little closer to the bannister, but thought better of risking it. Instead he stood helpless and stranded in a sea of perfectly solid ground.

“Magnus, just come back up,” said Clary.

“I need to go down.”

“Why? Did you forget something?”

“Listen, I wouldn’t leave this party if it wasn’t a matter of life or death. And I think it might be. And I also think that if I take a step in either direction I might fall and break my neck.”

Clary looked at him. Hard.

“Okay,” she said, taking a few steps down to meet Magnus’ level. “Do you need some help?”

“Would you mind?”

She smiled sweetly up at him and draped a many-coloured beaded necklace over his head.

“Come on then,” she said, offering her elbow.

They walked down slowly, each step approached with thought and caution. Until finally the stairs were all behind, with only flat road ahead.

“You okay now?”

“I think so.”

“Do you want me to call Cat?”

“No. I mean, yeah, tell her not to bother coming tonight. I won’t be back. And tell her to check her gas. And save me some chicken.”

“Okay.”

“You’re the sweetest biscuit I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

“You’re a very strange man.”

“I know.”

He would have said more had his worry been less.

With a deep inhale, Magnus reconsidered the options. If Alec wasn’t. If he couldn’t. If he didn’t. Ifs were cheap and easy, he knew.

Another deep breath and he ran full-speed towards the store on the corner across from the park; the only place he knew for certain Alec should be kept away from.

* * *

 

Alec was still deciding between the blue shirt and the red shirt when Izzy arrived at his door. He stopped staring from one to the other long enough to let her up and discarded both garments on his brick of a couch.

He wondered if Magnus could recommend him something less oppressive on the human body.

“Hey!” he greeted merrily, wrapping his arms around his little sister as she entered.

“Ew, you stink of wine,” she said, wriggling free. “And why are you naked. Seriously, how much have you had to drink?”

“I’m not drunk, Iz! And I’m not naked, I’m wearing literally everything except a shirt.”

“Well put one on. I don’t need to see your chest hair.”

Alec rolled his eyes but went to collect the discarded shirts anyway.

“Which one do you think looks better?”

“For this proposal of yours?” asked Izzy, voice tight.

“Oh, God, no. That’s all done with.”

“What do you mean?”

“We ended things.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Neither of us wanted to keep up the charade. Now, come on, which shirt should I wear?”

“I don’t know. Where are we going?”

“I seem to remember you inviting me to that party at your place.”

“Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

Alec laughed.

“I’m serious,” she said. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’ve just had a slight change of perspective.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“You really ended things with Lydia?”

“I did.”

“And you’re like… coming out?”

Alec paused.

“Telling mom,” he began cautiously “Well, it’s not gonna be easy.”

Not with so many layers of reality sitting heavy on them all.

“I can be there with you.”

He considered it for a moment before scrunching up his nose and saying, “I think she’d be upset that I felt I needed backup.”

“Alec, if she’s not okay with it-”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Alec saw his sister before him, then above his lifeless body.

He tried to blink that particular image away as he said, “I think I’ll end up hurting more people by staying quiet.”

Izzy placed a hand on his cheek and smiled.

He hoped to God there was no version of reality where Izzy wasn’t smiling in that moment – because of something awful he had done.

“Hey, Iz.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve really missed you.”

Izzy stuck her tongue out quickly before saying, “Wear the blue.”

* * *

 

Magnus knew he must look a mess; sweat streamed makeup streaking down towards his wheezing mouth.

This was why, he thought, marathon runners didn’t sprint the whole way. Marathon runners, however, were not on their way to possibly save a life.

He slowed just enough to check the time on his phone.

It felt too early, but he couldn’t be sure. If only he’d noted his first time of death. Unfortunately, he’d been too busy dying.

He glanced through the window of the corner store anyway, both hoping to see Alec and hoping not to see him.

There were people mingling inside. Not a one was his man.

Magnus’ heart stuttered as he pondered his position. It wouldn’t do to stray and risk missing Alec’s arrival (if he was going to arrive). Looking around desperately for some physical incarnation of an answer, he remembered the park across the road.

“Chairman?” he asked sweetly of the air.

With caution, he crossed over to kneel beside the bush he’d last found the Chairman skulking beneath.

“Chairman?”

A soft meow rang back at him.

Magnus fell flat on his belly so he might get a better look, not caring a fraction about what the ground might do to his clothes.

“Hello,” he cooed. “Is that you?”

A clump of grey and white fluff stalked slowly into the light and Magnus felt the size of his own smile grow along with his heart.

“Hello, baby!”

The Chairman greeted him with a casual tone, but did leap into his arms the moment Magnus was upright and beckoning.

* * *

 

Alec insisted on stopping along the way to buy Magnus a birthday present. He explained to Izzy over and over that it was terribly rude to turn up to a party empty-handed. He did not explain that he had lived through at least thirty of Magnus’ birthdays and this was the first one he’d be able to get Magnus something that didn’t disappear come morning.

Not much was open at that time, but a good bottle of wine would be appreciated, he knew.

As they entered the corner store, Alec realised, horrifically, that he’d been there before. It was fine though. It would be fine this time. It was rewriting history; correcting the glitch in the system.

Izzy returned from the back holding a bottle of red she claimed to be delicious for a reasonable price. Alec took one look at her and, placing the bottle delicately on the counter, pulled her into his arms.

Muffled against his chest, Izzy asked, “Seriously, what’s with all the warm fuzzy stuff all of a sudden?”

“Am I not usually warm and fuzzy with you?”

“Not this much – not with anyone.”

Alec laughed and pressed her tighter to his chest. Chin on the top of Izzy’s head, Alec had a clear view of the dark street beyond the fluorescent light; a clear view of a face in the window.

“Magnus?”

Alec let Izzy go as he saw Magnus walk briskly past the door as though he hadn’t just seen Alec.

* * *

 

Magnus watched the store from the park, placing kisses to his cat all the while. Until, finally, he saw two familiar figures enter.

He kept the Chairman in his arms as he wandered over.

“It’s okay, baby,” he said softly. “I know you’ll come back. That’s how this whole thing works between us. You disappear, I get worried sick, and then you wake me up by sitting on my face as though nothing happened.”

Chairman Meow did not give Magnus a look over his shoulder as he darted to freedom.

Magnus could not supress his giddiness now that Alec was so very near. Nor his anxiety. There was so much energy of every kind within him that he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Hi, Izzy,” he said, entering and seeing the sister first.

She glanced over at him briefly.

“Oh. Hi,” she replied, still only half in the world.

“Where’s your brother?”

Izzy’s gaze snapped.

“He should be right here,” she said. “Alec!”

Magnus moved faster than she did and saw the man wandering up and down a far aisle.

“Will you watch him?” asked Izzy. “I don’t trust him not to break everything in the place and I need to pay for these crackers and disgusting sports drinks.”

“Of course.”

Izzy gave Alec one last worried look before shuffling back towards the till.

Alec walked as though dreaming, seeing through everything and seeing nothing at once. And then he walked, dreamily, over to the pain pills.

“Hey,” snapped Magnus, grabbing Alec’s forearm. “What are you doing?”

Intoxicated, unfocused eyes turned on Magnus. The confusion in them did not fade.

Magnus put the pieces together quickly and said, “You don’t know me, do you?”

* * *

 

Alec exited the store to see Magnus striding towards the street with no indication that he intended to slow.

There was only a second to act.

“Hey!” he cried.

Magnus kept up his pace.

With a sprint, Alec caught up. He grabbed Magnus by the waist and pushed him firmly further onto the pavement just as a car sped past.

“Fuck!” cried Magnus, not looking twice at Alec as he pushed him away. “That was my cat! Now he’s run off to God knows where.”

Alec tugged on Magnus’ jacket to regain his attention.

“What were you thinking? You almost just got hit by that car.”

Magnus waved away this statement and said, “Listen, I don’t need this right now. I need to find my cat.”

“Well, you’re not going to find him if you’re splattered on the tarmac. I mean, God!” cried Alec, feeling anger take over. “Have you learnt nothing?”

“I’m sorry,” said Magnus, sounding far more angry than apologetic, “But, do I know you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this update has taken so long I've just had a huge block when it comes to writing this particular chapter. I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always welcome <3


	8. Care Bears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter touches heavily again on attempted suicide and alcohol abuse
> 
> thank you for you patience! I didn't expect to struggle so much with this chapter but I'm pretty happy with the finished product and I hope you enjoy it

“Do I know you?” asked Magnus.

He was clearly annoyed. He was also, very clearly, completely unaware of who Alec was or what they had experienced together.

“No,” said Alec. “No, you don’t know me. But I know you.”

Magnus looked Alec up and down, his expression melting from irritation into curiosity.

“Is that a line?” he asked with a smirk.

Alec laughed, almost relieved. Like maybe it was enough just to get him to engage with him, to look at him, and to even kiss him again. The distance was irrefutable in all of its heart-shattering coldness. It was not, however, insurmountable.

“It’s a little more complicated than a line,” said Alec.

Magnus’ brows shot up while his smirk grew. Alec wanted to kiss away the smugness (he knew he was capable of it). But the thought of kissing Magnus, feeling a supernova in his own ribcage while Magnus feels nothing at all, was unpleasant to say the least.

“Listen,” said Alec. “I need to explain something.”

“Is it going to be long?” Magnus’ façade cracked ever so slightly to reveal exhaustion and sadness. “I have to find my cat.”

“Okay. We can do that first.”

“So you’re just going to… stalk me?”

“I’d like to think of it more as helping out.”

“I don’t need help.”

“You don’t want to find the Chairman?”

Magnus shuffled back and said, “I was honestly just joking before but now I’m worried you’re an actual stalker.”

“Not unless you want me to follow you from a distance? Hide behind stuff when you look over your shoulder? It might make it difficult for me to help you find your cat though.”

“How do you know my cat’s name?”

At that moment, the door to the corner store swung open and the sound of Izzy’s heels clattering on pavement turned both of their heads.

“Alec, where did you go?” she said, bottle of wine in her hand and irritation on her face. “I thought you were paying for this! I’m a student - Magnus?”

“Izzy?”

She looked perplexed at the scene before her;

“You two know each other?” she said.

“Half apparently,” said Magnus.

Alec laughed as best he could while Izzy, thankfully, had settled her inquisitive eye onto Magnus.

“How come you’re not at the party?” she asked.

Magnus shifted uncomfortably and said, “I needed some fresh air.”

“Does Clary know you bailed?”

“Of course!”

“And she’s fine with you leaving before the chicken’s ready?”

“Just a run in with an ex,” he admitted with a wince.

 “Camille?” said Izzy. At Magnus’ evident curiosity, she added, “I’ve heard Clary bitch about her enough. Seems like the kind of person who’d show up somewhere uninvited.”

“Oh, she is,” said Magnus. “But, to be fair to her, I did invite her.”

“What? Why?”

“In my defence, I was incredibly drunk.” Then, something flashed behind Magnus’ gaze as he steeled his expression. “I should go back with you.”

“Not if this ‘Camille’ is there,” said Alec quickly. “We could all just… grab some food instead?”

He was floundering, he knew, but beyond offering to take Magnus home right there and then, there was little he could do to prevent the change of course.

“No, it’s my fault. Clary shouldn’t have to deal with her on my behalf. Oh, is that for me?” Magnus took the wine from Izzy’s hands and pulled the cork out with his teeth. After taking a swig of what must have amounted to at least half the bottle, he said, “Alright, let’s go,”

* * *

“You don’t know me, do you?” said Magnus.

He might as well have been invisible for all Alec saw him then. Thankfully, however, Alec had forgotten the pills for the moment and instead decided to wander over to his sister so he might inspect the candy bars.

“And I’ll pay for whatever he picks up,” said Izzy, handing over her card.

Magnus cast one last look at the pain pills behind him and concluded that there was no way to hide them all in some hidden corner of a shelf without being seen. So he joined Izzy and Alec at the counter where they were just finishing up.

“Thanks, Magnus,” said Izzy, eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t really know what to do with him. He’s never been like this before.”

“Let me help. I’ve had more than my fair share of nights like these.”

Izzy considered the offer, exhaustion making it look as though she’d been the one living through a month of sleepless nights, of repeated deaths.

“No,” she said finally. “No, you should go back to your party. What are you doing here anyway? Bailing on your party before Clary brings out the chicken?”

“Oh, dear,” he said, reaching for his phone.

It must have buzzed while he’d been distracted by the Chairman’s purring as there were over ten angry messages from Clary about Camille. Well, he thought with a sigh, he supposed a completely perfect night wasn’t ever going to be achieved, no matter how many times he had a go at it. He'd become so consumed with the thought of seeing Alec again that he'd completely forgotten to uninvite her.

“I’m so sorry,” he typed, an eye flickering to Alec every other second. “Kick her out as unceremoniously as you like. I’m giving Izzy a hand with her brother.”

At that, he turned his phone on silent and slipped it back in his pocket.

He smiled at Izzy and said, “Done. I’m all yours for the rest of the night.”

“Magnus-”

“I’ll hear no arguments.”

“I was going to say thank you.”

“Oh,” said Magnus, face warming at her unabashed gratitude. “You’re welcome.”

The sound of a door opening stood them both to attention.

“Was that Alec?” said Izzy, tone frantic.

Magnus rushed out onto the street and saw Alec, swaying as he waved down a taxi.

“Alexander,” he breathed.

The car door had almost swung closed by the time Magnus caught up. He grabbed the handle and threw himself into the back beside Alec.

“We’re together,” said Magnus by way of explanation.

He had expected some sort of argument on the driver’s end, but all that came was a simple, “Where to?”

“Nearest late night diner?”

“Easy enough.”

And they were off.

“Hey, Alec,” said Magnus. “Can I have your phone?” Alec handed it over without argument. “Thumb print?” Alec offered it freely.

Magnus opened Alec’s contacts and immediately called Izzy. It barely rang before she answered.

“Alec, where are you?” she said.

“Izzy? It’s me – Magnus. I caught him getting into a cab and hopped in after him. I’ll get him something to eat and get him home safely. I promise.”

“Bring him back to mine.”

“You mean where there’s a raging party going on?”

“Shit,” she breathed. “I forgot.”

“It’s fine, Izzy. He’s fine. I’ll put your number in my phone and text you when I get him home.” Magnus looked over at Alec’s slouched over in his seat and fiddling with something. “I promise I’ll keep him safe.”

“Okay.”

She sounded tearful and it broke his heart. If only he could express just how important it was to him to look after Alec. It was not a burst of good will; Alec’s safety was linked to his own happiness, double bolted with a lost key.

Instead of all that he repeated, helplessly, “I promise.”

Hanging up, Magnus looked down at Alec’s hands, expecting to see that familiar ring box. The light of a passing car caught the shape, however, and showed it to be something else entirely.

Alec must have grabbed the pills on his way out of the store.

 “Okay, okay,” said Magnus, snatching the pills and shoving them inside his jacket. “These are mine now. And we’re going to find something for you to eat.”

* * *

 

Immediately upon their arrival to Izzy and Clary’s place, a dark-haired woman pounced on Magnus.

“Where were you?” she snapped, dragging him away.

The rest of the conversation carried on out of earshot.

Clary hurried over to stand between Alec and Izzy.

“Magnus came back?” she asked. “Why?”

“Said he thought he should,” said Izzy.

Alec had followed Magnus with his eyes. He seemed sheepish, almost broken. It reminded Alec of the last time he’d seen Magnus, begging him to stay.

“That’s Camille?” he said.

“Yeah,” said Clary.

“She’s pretty.”

“Only on the outside.”

“She’s as bad as all that?”

“Just the worst,” she said, taking a long drag off whatever she was holding. “If it wasn’t Magnus’ birthday I’d kick her ass out of here.”

Alec snorted, “I’d like to see that.”

Clary was compact, of course, but Alec also knew that was deceptive. She’s joined his kickboxing class after he mentioned it in passing and there were few who could take her on, no matter the size. The image of her unleashing the fury that was usually reserved for punching bags and insensitive classmates on Camille was a rather wonderful one.

Alec had practice with hating on the behalf of others. Anyone who hurt his mother, his sister, his brother. Magnus was now on that list.

There was also this terrible twinge of jealousy he could not reason with. He did not want to be in Camille’s place; what he wanted was Magnus away from her. And next to him. But that was a selfishness he would have to wait to act upon.

It wasn’t about his want, it was about Magnus’ need.

And what Magnus needed was to get away from Camille.

He made conversation (as politely as possible) with the people Izzy introduced him to, but he never went more than a moment without searching for Magnus. Izzy gave him the occasional eyebrow raise of questioning, the grin of knowing, and the odd flash of irritation at his obvious lack of attention to her friends.

Magnus and Camille spent over an hour talking animatedly to one another as Alec continued to be rude. 

“Why don’t you just go over and talk to him?” Izzy hissed in Alec’s ear the moment they were alone. “Instead of just ignoring everyone else.”

“He’s in the middle of something.”

Izzy leaned back a little, as though to get a better view of him.

“What?” he said.

“You’re not even denying it?”

Alec simply shrugged and said, “Life’s short.”

Izzy shook her head slowly and laughed.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’m just… really proud of you.”

“This is the easy part. Being honest with you.”

“You know you don’t have to tell Mom. I'll cover for you if you need it - you know I have no problem lying to her.”

He did know this. He also knew that in spite of this fact, he would not be able to stomach keeping it from her. Alec had never found his footing on middle ground. It was all or nothing for him (and he had starved on nothing).

“But you’re going to, aren’t you?” said Izzy.

“Yeah.”

“You’re such a goody-goody.”

Alec let out a quick, breathy laugh before realising he’d lost track of Magnus. Then, there was a light tapping on his shoulder.

He turned and his heart sped up.

“Alexander, right?” said Magnus.

From behind him, he heard Izzy excuse herself, but the words themselves were lost on him.

“It’s usually Alec,” he said, holding out a hand for Magnus to shake. “But I’ll make an exception.”

Magnus accepted the shake and Alec could not help but stare at the place their skin touched; palm to palm.

“You’ve been watching me,” said Magnus.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Oh, you’re very attractive.”

Magnus took a long sip from his glass and did not break eye contact the entire time.

Alec felt like a virgin again, like he’d never touched the man before him. Which, he supposed, was true in a way.

Regardless of technically, Alec’s ears burned with a familiar heat.

“I would have come over earlier,” said Magnus, swirling what was left of his drink around. “But I had resolve a particular problem.”

“Your ex-girlfriend? She left Clary having to physically kick her out?”

“She’s not completely unreasonable. Although, I wouldn’t mind moving on to a different topic. Let's start with, would you rather go back to your place or mine?”

Alec’s entire face was aflame. As were his hands, his neck, and his belly. Magnus noticed. How could he not have?

With a smirk, Magnus said, “So?”

“Why don’t we grab a drink first?”

“I already have a drink.”

“I meant another night.”

“Ah.”

“Like a date?”

Magnus’ smile faded and the burning in Alec’s belly grew cold and died.

“You’re an old-fashioned type then?” said Magnus.

Alec resented the facts of reality for stopping his arms from holding the man.

“I guess so,” he sighed.

“Well, it’s refreshing, but unfortunately not what I’m looking for right now.”

Any previous concern that their time together had left Magnus as stoic and guarded as when they met was snuffed out. The change, now that he had the old Magnus before him, was outstanding. 

Alec wanted to argue. Badly. Because Magnus was entirely wrong; Alec was exactly what he was looking for. But what on earth could he say that wouldn’t sound mad? So he watched him finish his drink and wander towards to door. Towards the stairs. Alec knew, all too well, Magnus’ history with that particular set of stairs.

“Wait!” he cried.

* * *

 

It felt almost morbid taking a picture of Alec in his current state; crumbs down his once clean, white shirt as he devoured the bacon and eggs before him. There was no need to memorialise this moment, but he knew Izzy would take photographic evidence of her brother’s wellbeing over a near-stranger’s word.

He sent it with the words, “He’s fed,” before immediately deleting the picture from his own phone.

“How are you feeling?” he asked Alec.

“Sick,” he replied. He looked back at Magnus without any warmth. “Who are you?”

“A friend.”

“Whose friend?”

Magnus forced a smile and leaned forwards.

“I promised your sister I’d keep you safe,” he said. “And I wanted an excuse to skip my own birthday party.”

Alec frowned as he chewed slowly. Once he’d swallowed, he said, “Magnus Bane?”

“The one and only. I assume. I mean, I’ve never met another one.”

Alec snorted before wincing and pinching at his forehead.

“You’re not used to the drink, are you?” said Magnus. “You’ll need to sleep it off.”

“I need to drink more.”

“I’ve made that mistake before. You’ll regret it when you wake up tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” said Alec, as though it was a forbidden, dirty word.

“Tomorrow won’t be a lot of fun, that’s true. But the day after tomorrow will be a little easier.”

Alec’s eyes rolled in his head while his head lolled back. When he did not move after a good thirty seconds, Magnus thought it was time to ask for the bill.

As he paid for Alec’s food (and his own tea), Magnus saw movement from the corner of him eye. He smiled through the waiter’s jokes.

“Your friend’s had quite a night, hasn’t he?” he said.

Magnus nodded, Alec standing and turning in his peripheral.

Once all was settled, Magnus rushed to his feet and caught Alec finishing off any and all drinks which were left on several yet-to-be-cleared tables.

“No! No, no, no, no,” said Magnus, placing a firm arm between Alec and the glass in his hand. He could have still taken a drink if he really wanted to, but he had the sense to look embarrassed and put it down. “Dear God, it’s like watching a puppy. Now, this is what we call ‘minesweeping,’ and it is recommended by exactly zero out of ten doctors.”

Alec did not react to his words, face draining of all remnants of colour. He wondered what nightmare cocktail of his own making Alec had just tossed down his throat.

“Outside,” said Magnus, hurrying them out of the door. “Quickly.”

He managed to steer Alec away from any other dregs that might tempt him and get him onto the street before Alec’s stomach could no longer hold onto its contents.

Magnus lightly patted Alec’s back as though it might be of any assistance.

“Believe it or not, that’ll help in the long run,” he said.

In the immediate, however, it seemed to be the last straw sending Alec into complete collapse. Magnus was right there, though, to keep him upright.

“Okay, angel,” he said. “We’re gonna walk you home now.”

“I can walk by myself. I’m a grown up.”

“I think you’ll need something to lean on. And I don’t have anywhere else to be right now.”

Alec didn’t react, poorly or well. So far gone, was he, that when Magnus lifted Alec's arm over his shoulder to better carry his weight, Alec leaned into him.

“Oh, I almost forgot how heavy you are,” he said, glancing sideways for any kind of reaction.

Nothing. Or close to it anyway.

Well, if all he could be was a literal pillar of support, then that was what he would be.

* * *

 

Alec saw Magnus’ ankle twist just at the moment Alec’s fingers wrapped around his bicep.

“Hey,” he said, “You gotta start being more careful.”

Magnus pulled his arm free, snapping, “And you gotta start minding your own business.”

“Maybe when you can walk down stairs without breaking your neck.”

“I haven’t died yet.”

With a nervous laugh, Alec said, “That’s kind of a terrible measure of danger, don’t you think?”

There was a twitching of a reluctant smile on Magnus’ face.

“Let me walk you home at least,” said Alec.

“I thought you weren’t interested.”

“Oh, I never said that.”

“But you won’t stay the night?”

“I can’t.”

“Then, I can get home just fine all alone.”

“You’re not interested in taking things slow?”

“I’m not interested in anyone trying to connect to me.”

“You’re afraid of letting your guard down,” said Alec. “It’s easier to be with someone who doesn’t care what’s inside.”

Magnus’ eyes widened and his mouth fell slightly open. Alec stared back; an unspoken challenge.

“And at that,” said Magnus, righting himself. “I say a firm and final, ‘Goodnight.’”

Magnus began to descend again just as a man, familiar to Alec, blocked their path.

“Alec! I didn’t realise you were coming tonight,” he cried.

“Hi, Simon. Yeah, last minute change of plans.”

He could hear the clipped edge of his words and watched Simon shrink a little. He’d apologise to Izzy for that later. 

“Well,” said Simon, fumbling, “I guess I’ll leave you to it.”

Magnus seized the moment to begin to step further down, saying, “Oh, no, you take Alexander back inside. I was just leaving. I have someone to meet.”

With a frown, Alec pushed past Simon and hurried after Magnus.

“Who are you meeting?” he cried.

* * *

 

The longer they walked, the more convinced Magnus became that, without his assistance, Alec would have been searching for home well into morning. If he survived that long. He was weaving in and out of invisible obstacles, tethered to the pavement (rather than tumbling onto the road) only by Magnus’ grip on his arm.

Once they finally reached Alec’s apartment block, Magnus saw no hint of recognition in Alec’s expression.

 “We’re here. Can you get your key out?” asked Magus softly.

Alec gave a long, slow series of nods before finally sticking his hand in the right pocket and retrieving the key.

“Perfect. May I?”

Alec nodded. He hadn’t stopped nodding. Magnus plucked the key from Alec’s palm and went about letting them inside.

With the door open, Alec took a lead on the stairs, suddenly, seemingly, desperate to make it home.

When Magnus caught up, Alec had his head against his own door.

"I need my key," he said.

"Okay." Magnus moved to open the door for him. As he did, he ventured, “Would you mind if I stayed with you?”

“Why not,” he drawled, “I mean, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Oh, angel. Don’t say that.”

Without turning the light on, Alec stumbled into his bedroom. Once Alec had collapsed on the bed, Magnus made to set himself up just outside the bedroom, on what Alec tried to pass off as a couch.

In the dark, Alec’s raspy voice rang out, “You called me that before.”

“Alexander?”

“Angel.”

“Oh,” said Magnus. He hadn’t even realised. “Does it bother you?”

Silence followed and Magnus waited for the telling snores that came whenever Alec drifted into sleep.

After a few minutes of continued silence, Magnus said, “You still with me?”

“I don’t think I can sleep,” he replied, a little croaky.

“Okay. I’ll get you some more water and we can talk.”

Magnus brought back the biggest glass of water he could find and Alec did not stop for air until the entire thing was emptied. As Alec finished, Magnus raised his eyebrows.

“I’ll fetch some more shall I?”

Alec shook his head.

“You want to talk instead?” said Magnus.

“Talking… when I talk it’s like I’m gonna throw up.”

“Don’t worry, I’m rather fond of the sound of my voice. Why don’t I talk and you try to sleep?”

“Like you’re telling me a bedtime story?”

“If you like. Once upon a time, there was a gorgeous young man named Alexander.” Alec snorted, as Magnus pressed on, “But the world was a little less gorgeous. Now, Alexander did his best to walk the ugly lines of that world, but after a while… he lost sight of what exactly he was walking for. The line he was on proved to be a dead end and he was so tired from all that walking, he didn’t have the energy to turn and see that there was an infinite number of alternate paths. Some were straight and narrow, the way he knew paths to be, but others were curved, lined with flowers. Up mountains, along rivers, through valleys and beyond. But, like I said, the young man was tired. It had been a long journey and he was ready to sleep.”

Magnus paused, but Alec did not yet sound like he was sleeping.

“And then,” he said, “Something amazing happened and fate, like a giant fucking claw machine, picked up Alexander and placed him a few steps back. For a while, all this did was give him another go at bull-rushing that same dead end. But one day, another man, almost as gorgeous as the first, blocked his way. This other man had the most incredible shoes, lots of shiny jewellery, and a hell of a lot of problems. But he had this magic power; he could see the endless possible pathways that stretched just behind Alexander. And you know what else? Alexander discovered he had his own magic power. He could see a brand new scenery up ahead, full of all the other man’s forgotten paths.”

A sudden snore burst through as Magnus kept speaking, “Of course, it wasn’t as simple as it sounds. And Alexander was a little slow to pick up the steps. And the other man… he was never that good at dancing with other people. But there’s still time to get it right. I can’t be entirely sure how the story ends just yet, but it can’t hurt to be hopeful can it?”

The snoring had grown steady and Magnus felt he heart seize up while the rest of him relaxed. He shifted further down the bed so his head could perch on a pillow and settled in to watch Alec sleep.

* * *

 

Out on the street, Alec saw Magnus making a beeline for Camille. She stood with a hard expression and a hand on her hip. As though she was doing Magus a favour by coming back for him.

“Camille?” he cried. “Seriously? You cannot be serious.”

Magnus spun on his Cuban heel and said, “So you’ve crossed the line into full on stalker now?”

“You don’t want to go home with her.”

“No?”

“I mean, don’t you sort of… hate her? It seems pretty unhealthy.”

“No shit,” said Magnus with a cold laugh. “But, what I do is my business – healthy or really, really unhealthy. It’s my business, not yours. Got that?”

“Sue me for trying to prevent a disaster.”

“Do you think you’re some kind of superhero or something? Why do you care so much? Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

Alec sighed, “Okay. Can I tell you a story that you’re definitely not going to believe?”

Camille cried out from down the street, “I don’t have all night.”

Without turning, Magnus raised a single finger up above his shoulder to indicate he’d be another minute.

“I’m listening,” he said.

Alec breathed a sigh of relief.

He went to tell Magnus about fate, of their connection, of what he himself believed to be true. That was not how Magnus understood it, though. Magnus had thought it was nonsense even with the evidence of the irrational before him.

Magnus understood it in terms of cold fact because he flinched at the flicker of a warm flame.

“So, a circle is two-dimensional, and an orange is three-dimensional,” he began.

Panic rose as he realised Magnus’ explanation had slipped through the cracks of his memory; replaced with the nights that followed it.

He thought hard.

“Is that it?” asked Magnus in a bored voice.

“No. Sorry, I got mixed up.”

_If our deaths are a system crash. Fix the glitch._

He missed the Magnus who knew him with a terrifying ferocity. It was not the time to be distracted by that particular part of the memory, but it was hard when a reminder of what was missing stood right before him looking unimpressed.

Alec switched to calculation, finding the state completely unnatural now.

“So if an orange was rotten on the outside,” he said slowly. “But ripe on the inside. What would that tell you? In terms of dimensions and linear time?”

“I have no idea.”

“Damn. Neither do I. Look, okay, you said it was a glitch,” said Alec, “And that the system would keep crashing until we fixed the glitch. Now I think the whole thing has… rebooted.”

Camille cried out once more, “Magnus!”

“She sounds angry,” said Magnus softly. “I should go.”

“Okay, so I don’t completely understand the glitch thing, but it sounded right when you said it.”

“Goodbye.”

* * *

 

Magnus woke with a start. He had not meant to sleep. He had been certain he wouldn’t sleep. The adrenaline of panic and longing had been pounding all over.

“Alexander?” he asked of the dark, the panic back with a viscous bite.

There was no reply; nothing there when he reached out searching for Alec.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

Magnus leapt off of the bed and out into the kitchen and living area.

“Alexander? Alec?”

The bathroom door was open and the room beyond was empty. Every room was empty. The only movement to be seen was a rustling of the curtains which hung aside a previously closed window.

Magnus practically threw himself over to the open window so he could look down below. He did not see Alec crumpled on the street, bloody and broken. He did, however, see that this particular window led to the fire escape.

“Oh, shit,” he breathed, scrambling out and onto the metal grating, running up the creaking steps without breaking for air.

* * *

 

Alec watched, helpless as the man he might have loved walked away with a woman who would only hurt him.

No, he thought, not helpless. He had the power within him to follow and ramble for as long as there were no walls or doors to stop him.

“Okay, so forget the glitch,” he said, jogging just behind Magnus and Camille.

“Who the hell is this?” asked Camille.

“Ignore him,” said Magnus, giving Alec a loaded glare.

Alec fell back just a few steps, but did not give up the chase.

He pressed on, “I don’t have your way with words, but I do know you. And I can prove it.”

Magnus linked his arm with Camille’s and hastened their pace.

“You told me you could walk up Everest in those heels of yours.” Alec called out, “You told me that you’re deathly allergic to bees, that you don’t believe in God, you went to NYU.”

Ahead, Magnus and Camille crossed the road, leaving Alec to fall behind, waiting for a succession of speeding cars to pass. By the time Alec got sight of them again, they had made it to the other side.

With nothing left to lose, Alec cried out, “And you told me that your mother gave you that necklace.”

Magnus stopped dead in his tracks.

With a wry smile, he called back across the street “Did I tell you why?”

“No,” said Alec. “Not the whole story.”

“That does sound like me.”

“I also know you’ve got a big brain and the capacity to understand and believe the impossible. So, you know, maybe use it.”

Magnus let out a ringing laugh, echoing from bricks and concrete, no doubt waking anyone who had managed to sleep through their yelling.

With incredible grace and speed, Magnus slipped his arm out of Camille’s and moved to run across the road, back to Alec.

A shining, speeding blur approached.

“Look out!” cried Alec.

Magnus jumped back just in time to avoid getting hit. The driver of the car gave Magnus the finger, which Magnus returned with glee.

Looking both ways, Magnus stepped off the pavement once more and hurried over to where Alec stood.

“I see you learnt to cross a road,” said Alec.

“These things are dangerous, aren’t they? I mean, we let kids walk about this city?”

“Kids know to look both ways.”

“Magnus!” cried Camille.

The two men looked up to see her still standing on her side of the road, arms crossed and a glare to kill.

“Just ignore her,” muttered Magnus, grabbing Alec by the arm and guiding him in the other direction. “There’s nothing that annoys her more than that.”

* * *

 

Magnus could barely see for lack of breathing, but through the blur of it all, there was a figure there in the darkness before him. Still standing.

“Oh thank God,” choked Magnus.

Alec had his elbows on the railing, staring out at what little of the city the rooftop provided a view of. How, Magnus wondered, could they be so very high off the ground and feel so beneath it all at once?

Magnus caught his breath a little before saying, “I thought I had fucked up in a completely unfixable way. I mean, I really thought you’d jumped.”

Alec turned to face him and Magnus saw a glassiness of a different kind. It was not a drunken stupor. Not entirely anyway.

“Alexander?”

“Is there any reason I shouldn’t?” said Alec, voice low and trembling, shaking Magnus to the core.

“Absolutely. More than I can count.”

Alec raised a thick eyebrow.

“See, right now, you don’t think there’s any future where you don’t feel like this, but that’s only because you don’t think you deserve to try for any other kind of future.”

Magnus took a step closer to Alec with slightly raised hands, the way you approach any creature who is cornered and afraid.

“It is possible to change your life, you know? At any time,” said Magnus. “Except for now. Now you need to go back to bed.”

Alec blinked. And blinked. And then shook his head.

“Could we,” he stammered, “Could we go for a walk instead? I need to clear my head.”

“As long as it’s not off the roof, we can walk wherever the hell you like.”

* * *

 

Magnus clung to Alec’s arm and said, “Tell me that crazy story?”

“I can do that.”

They walked, side by side, close enough to tease a brush of the arms but too far for it to ever come to fruition.

“Don’t try to get technical with it though,” said Magnus. “I don’t think that’s your forte.”

“Oh, it’s definitely not.”

They laughed together.

Alec thought for a moment before deciding to simply explain it his way.

“The way I see it,” he said. “You and I are... cosmically linked somehow. We died at the same time and if we hadn’t been so busy destroying ourselves, we would have been able to help each other.”

“Seems paradoxical.”

“Maybe that’s why I can remember and you can’t. I had to learn to look after myself, but first I have to look after you. It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?”

“I guess so. I used to think it was simple.”

“What was?”

“Life.”

“I don’t think that’s true in any version of reality.”

Alec snorted, “Does that mean you believe me?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to be unbiased when you’re so gorgeous.”

Alec had never made a habit of visiting the pier, not even as a child. But leaning over the railing, standing beside Magnus, hands just an inch apart, felt like some fraction of home.

They stared, together, out at the shifting colours of the horizon as the dawn came in.

“I’m sorry I scared off your cat,” said Alec, after a while.

“It’s okay. At least I know he’s okay. And he’ll come back when he’s ready.”

* * *

 

Time had sobered Alec slightly and as they walked through the streets, Alec’s sway became a little less pronounced.

Magnus didn’t want to remove his hand from Alec’s back, didn’t want to risk it, and didn’t want to lose the feeling of his warm, living, body. So he just kept his eye out for any indication that Alec wanted to be let go.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” asked Alec, voice small.

“I promised your sister I would be.”

“So you’re doing this for Izzy? You two are… close?”

“I’m good friends with her roommate.”

Magnus’ fingers stayed feather-light on the small of Alec’s back, guiding him in the direction of the pier. It was as good a place as any, Magnus thought, to see the sunrise. Besides, if Alec wanted to leap into the river, Magnus was more than happy to turn his feather touch into an unforgiving anchor.

“That’s…” said Alec slowly. “That’s not a great reason to spend your night babysitting a stranger.”

“Well, I’m trying to get in good with God. I figured a good deed or two would undo my many, many sins.”

Alec snorted.

* * *

 

The sun rising from the river was something alright. But the way that the golden light illuminated Magnus’ face was something much more. Right down to the glimmering crucifix around his neck. Bright light hit the metal, then, in such a way that Alec could see only white.

Blinking himself back to reality, the view had shifted.

Alec had never seen Magnus without that crucifix. Even when devoid of all other jewellery, all clothing, all makeup; that one piece remained.

And now it was gone.

Replaced by a cheap looking, artsy, and beautifully bright beaded necklace.

* * *

 

Magnus held up an arm to block out the unnaturally blinding sunrise.

This, he thought, this is that light that they tell you about. The light that precedes the endless black.

But then the white light faded and he was not dead. And neither was Alec. And he could not quite believe it.

“Must be blinding with your hangover,” said Magnus, blinking until Alec’s form was clear. “Did you… change your shirt?”

Because suddenly Alec’s stained white shirt had turned a clean, bright blue.

* * *

 

“Magnus?” asked Alec, feeling foolish for doing so.

Of course he was Magnus. He had always been Magnus. But to say, “My Magnus?” took a degree of presumption Alec did not have.

There was a crumble in the façade, though. And he seemed more Magnus in that moment than he had just before.

* * *

 

It could have been a trick of the morning light. Light changes things. Moods, colours, perspectives. Perhaps it had also changed the sharpness of Alec’s gaze.

“Magnus?” he'd said.

Light could affect sound, just as smell affected taste. Though it was hard for Magnus to believe a simple combination of hope and sunshine could change the way Alec said his name. Like it was familiar. Or even dear.

“Alexander?” he breathed. “Are you… Do you? I mean-”

It was scepticism and scepticism alone that held him back. It was Alec who pulled him forwards.

Strong arms squeezed him so very tightly that it was hard to breathe. But Magnus’ priority was not to fight for space; he flung his own arms around Alec and squeezed impossibly harder.

Alec spoke, words muffled by Magnus’ own shoulder, “We did it.”

“I can’t believe it. You were very hard to keep alive.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me.”

* * *

 

Alec, answered the phone and balanced it between his chin and shoulder.

“Hi, Mom," he said. "I can’t talk for long, I’ve gotta finish setting up for Magnus’ party.”

“Oh,” she said, as though this was news. “That’s still on then?”

“Yeah, Mom, it’s a birthday – it’s a pretty fixed occasion.”

Alec straightened, and re-straightened the bright tablecloth before him to construct the illusion of control.

Adrenaline is a hell of a placebo, but once the dust settles, the desire to scrub every surface clean kicks back in.

“Max was hoping to see you. It’s been a while.”

“Max was invited to the party. You know that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “That’s no place for Max.”

“He’s eighteen, Mom, not eight.”

“Oh, and that’s old enough for you to throw him into the party of a man with a known substance abuse problem?”

“Magnus has been sober for almost three months now.” There was the heavy breath of a scoff through the phone, which Alec immediately spoke over, “And his party will have less alcohol than Mass.”

He waited for whatever clever insult she was cooking in response.

It was hard to be add odds with a mother he had spent his whole life desperate to please. His love for her was still there, as was a deep-seeded desire for her happiness. The resentment still stung just as hard, though.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a long pause.

Alec was not certain he’d heard her correctly.

“But,” she added and he had to sigh; _of course_. “I still don’t want Max there.”

“Fine, but don’t try and guilt me and Izzy for skipping your conveniently scheduled family dinner.”

“Alec-”

“It’s been a year, Mom. You owe Magnus a chance.”

She didn’t answer straight away, which was a step in the right direction.

“Bring him to the next family dinner.”

Her words were clipped and her tone was tight.

Alec tried to keep his tongue loose as he said, “Thanks, Mom.”

His words and tone mimicked hers regardless. He was realising every day that he was very much his mother’s son and his main take away from that was a deep gratitude that he was not his father.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he finished.

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Alec placed his phone down carefully and stared for a while at the state of the cloth beneath. It was an art deco design with royal shades; not something he’d choose, but Izzy had thought Magnus might like it.

She was right in that sense and it served, amongst a scattering of other new items, as a reminder of Magnus’ presence in his life even when he wasn’t physically there.

Magnus was reluctant to merge their lives so completely, so quickly, and while Alec had already looked into re-re-sizing the family ring to fit Magnus’ finger, he would stay patient for as long as necessary.

* * *

 

Thirty-seven felt about a decade older than thirty-six. It didn’t feel as though a full year had passed, so to speak, but the age itself didn’t sit right with him. It didn’t suit him.

Dying young was far more his colour. Before the inevitable set in. He winced at the direction of his own train of thought and forced his therapist’s voice to override it.

_“You are allowed to be happy, to have a long life, and a good one at that.”_

The sentiment echoed off the tiles, not fully settling anywhere.

Not _fully_.

Which was better than settling nowhere.

Magnus tried his best to control his breathing as he leant over Alec’s bathroom sink. His neck was so much lighter without the physical weight of his mother dangling from it.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Okay?” asked Alec, much firmer, from just behind him.

Magnus looked up at the mirror and smiled at Alec’s reflection.

“Sorry,” he stammered, running the tap cold over his wrist to try and soothe the rising heat of panic.

“Don’t be,” said Alec.

“It’s just… birthdays are hard.”

“I know.”

With the squeak of the tap turning off once more, Magnus felt his smile grow wider.

“I know you know.”

The older he got, the weaker his mind grew. Years passed by so very quickly and he saw his sanity pass along with them. But he hadn’t gone completely mad yet. And he had at least two people in that building who knew the ugliest parts of him well, and wanted to watch him blow out his candles anyway.

Even the bathroom itself was a reminder that there was space for him in the world, that his touch didn’t cause decay and rot every single thing.

The Spartan styling Alexander Lightwood had opted for just a year previous had been slowly improved with dried flowers, stained glass pots, and towels that didn’t tear a full layer of skin off with every use.

Alec moved forwards and poked his head over Magnus’ shoulder just far enough to place a kiss on his cheek. Before Alec could step back, Magnus reached around for his strong hands and wrapped them around his own waist.

“It’s gonna be hard,” said Magnus, speaking with closed eyes to muster the courage. “To get through tonight without anything to numb the pain.”

“Well, you’ve got whatever Izzy’s brought in that hot pot. That’ll probably take us all out for a couple of days.”

“I’d rather eat another one of Clary’s vegan baking experiments. Izzy won’t notice if I don’t try any of her food will she?”

“She’s got this habit.”

Magnus leaned back in Alec’s hold so he could turn and better inspect the man's expression.

“What kind of habit?"

“She’ll offer you something to eat and then sort of… stare at you until you eat it.”

Going a little slack, Magnus groaned.

Alec laughed and said, “I don’t know why. I think she likes feeding people. It’s one of the only things she has in common with my mother.”

Magnus groaned again.

“Cat’s brought a real cake at least. Eggs and everything.”

“You don’t think it’s going to be too awful do you? I mean, on paper ‘dry potluck birthday party’ sounds like my idea of hell.”

“Only because you’re focusing on the word ‘birthday.’”

“I do hate birthdays,” he grumbled.

“I know,” said Alec, placing more kisses onto various parts of Magnus’ face and shoulder. “But come sunrise it won’t be your birthday anymore.”

“I can’t wait.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading this far! 
> 
> please comment if you enjoyed it because I live for validation <3
> 
> but seriously thank you! your support and feedback has meant so much to me and I love you all

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on tumblr @dorcasdeadowes


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